Destiny in a Crisis
by ROBOTJONZE
Summary: Skyrim is a land plagued in bloodshed yet a new challenge has come that the nord legends of old have foretold, where triumph end and annihilation begins. But fate has it that a lone warrior has come and by his strength, he will turn back the destruction and a new age would begin. But can he do it? Does he want to? (Completely Rewritten from my old story!)
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

The sun was starting to set giving the evening sky a desolate orange haze, peering over the thick peaks of pine from the trees. Rodhin was stirred awake from the chirps of crickets and other night critters that bark when the moons start to rise. His muscle were stiff from laying slumped against the tree stump hidden from the thick bushes a few meters from where the snares he had set earlier. He got to his feet no less walking over to his rabbit traps. It was a long hunt, and Rodhin spent most of his time tracking an _bull_ elk to no avail, so he settled for the smaller game, setting good bait for when the hares decided to peer over. He was in luck, three meaty rabbit were all caught, necks snapped and recent to, making all the meat even fresher. Taking them from the traps, Rodhin gathers the hares as well as his other hunting gear all set with his pack, ready to head home.

His cottage was but a mile out of the woods into the open valley near the center of Whiterun Hold. Judging the time on how the sun was fading downward into the horizon, Rodhin guessed that his wife Jodli had already started preparing supper. She had said earlier that she'll make a good stew with cabbage and carrots she had grown in her garden and whatever meat Rodhin had managed to catch. His wife's stew... Rodhin's stomach had let him know that it had been thinking the same thing with a growl.

He was on the market road towards his home when he could smell the vegetables already steaming in a pot. His home was a small wooden cottage settled on a few acres gifted to him by the jarl, the house he took pride in for he built it himself, a large area meant for the kitchen/dining room where it could used as a living area due to the wide cooking pit for a fire to sit around, it had one bedroom sectioned off to where he and his wife slept. The land they had was fertile enough for his wife to have some vegetables and wheat grow, along with a cow he had bought to graze in.

Rodhin was greeted first by his hound, a shaggy dog near on his fifth year showing his age with the graying in his fur. The dog being so old and slow, Rodhin had decided not to take him on the hunt instead letting him rest in his usual spot outside the door. The dog raised his head wagging his tongue as a _"Hello"_ onto where Rodhin pat him on the head, opening the door. Coming inside he was met with a whaff smell of stew brewing on a hot fire. Joldi was at a counter chopping a carrot when she spots her husband coming in. She brushes over across the room to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, taking the rack of rabbits from his backpack. "Good." She says, "I'll skin these quick for the broth."

"I should've skin them before heading home." said Rodhin, setting his pack and bow down. "That way we could've had supper sooner."

"You don't skin them thorough." spoke Joldi, she had already tempered one of the rabbits, taking a knife and making small incision at the neck, peeling the fur back showing raw pink meat. Rodhin chuckled a smile, nord women were thick hearty beings, set in their ways with no man they want nor look for to be coddled with. "How's our lad?" Rodhin spoke.

"He was napping earlier, you should check on him." Joldi spoke, still busy cleaning the furs of the hares.

Coming into their bedroom, Rodhin sees the cradle next to their bed with a tiny murmur spurring from it. He smiled brightly as he walked over. "How's my shield-breaker huh?" He beamed picking up his year old son. His son had every aspect a nord child would seem, fair skin broad shoulders, he almost look to have the likeness of his father yet had his mother's features on that of his thick brown hair and crystal blue eyes, onto where Rodhin had dark dirty blonde hair and palish gray.

The boy smiled and giggled at the sight of his father as Rodhin took him into his arms and bounced him a little. "Did you give your mother trouble when I was gone?" He cooed. "It wouldn't be so bad, there's fun doing that." Rodhin laughed. He walks his son around the room noticing the boy's fixation on the imperial legion officer's helmet resting on a small table of its own, along with a brightly silver spatha resting in it sheath. A gift for his discharge from the legion after the war no doubt. "See the sword son?" Rodhin, Rodhin took the blade, easily sliding from its scabbard, it beaming in its glow. "You've got a warrior's heart I know it." Rodhin quickly put the blade out of reach when his son raised his hand towards it. "But..." He sheaths his sword "Theirs is more to Skyrim other than being best warriors of the emperor's army."

Rodhin reaches into his shirt, touching his necklace, showing his son a pendant, it was made of smooth obsidian carved into a sword piercing into axe's blade forming a cross almost. "Talos the hero of mankind and founder of the empire was that of you and me a mortal who ascended into god hood. Born in the ancient homeland of Atmora, Talos conquered Tamriel and created the Empire. His words are: _Be strong for war. Be bold against enemies and evil and defend the people of Tamriel."_

His son reaches out to touch the smooth pendant, "Your mother made me this before our war with the elves. Back when she was still a priestess of Talos's temple. When you were born I wrote this into the pendant." He then shows his son the name etched in it in an old language than none speak anymore. " _Rohan_." said Rodhin, "That is your name, it means _balanced hero_ in the old tongue." He then points to a small symbol, it was an astrological sign of a star. "The serpent, that was the sign you were born under. It is an impractical sign which would give you an edge. The unpredictable are always the better in battle."

"Dear bring our boy, supper will be ready soon." Joldi.

Coming towards their living area watching as Joldi finished cooking, Rodhin sat down still bouncing their son in his arms. "Any word from Windhelm?" Joldi asked, still cooking.

"If saying have I talked to Ulfric I haven't, not sense Markarth." Rodhin said.

Joldi was chopping a potato when she paused in deep thought. "What ails you?" Rodhin asked.

"I just wished... you two didn't grow so distant." Joldi somberly spoked. "Ever since..."

"The war changed him my love. I fail the man I once knew." said Rodhin.

Joldi turned back to her potatoes "The war has changed everyone."

At dinner, Rodhin was slurping down big gulps of his wife's stew while Joldi cradled their baby, feeding him small spoonfuls. "You like rabbit don't you ?"Joldi cooed snuggling her baby's nose with her's. Her son responded with a giggly laugh.

"Best stew you've made my love." said Rodhin finishing his bowl and looking to make another serving for himself.

"You say that about my cooking all the time." Joldi said rolling her eyes sounding ever so nonchalant.

"You're a good cook." Her husband smiled.

"Maybe I should dial it down then." she says, "You're looking to put on weight."

Rodhin went red in the cheeks and instantly took a glance at his stomach trying to see if fat was indeed obviously showing. "I'm only joking love." Joldi laughed. "Go and make yourself another bowl, we should still have some left in the pot."

Rodhin only gave her a stern look, "I'm not sure. Not after you said something."

His words were cut short at the sudden barking coming from the dog outside. Usually the dog never makes a sound only when someone approached their home And that it was a for a loud boom of knock rapt at the door. It was late for visitors and neither Rodhin nor Joldi was expecting anyone.

"Who goes there!" yelled Rodhin.

"Representatives of the Aldmeri Dominion!" said a smooth polite yet stringent voice on the other side. "We would like word, if you please!"

A coldness strapped both Rodhin and Joldi to the bone as bitter as morning air on a mountain top. "Take him to the back." spoke Rodhin, quietly yet urgent, "And stay there!"

Joldi was a bit hesitant, "But husband...

"NOW!"

Doing as told, Joldi, cradled her son close, going to their bedroom but stops midway. "Rodhin wait." she said in quick whisper. Rodhin instantly knew what she was referring to and quickly top the neck from his person handing it to her before she ran off to the other room.

Rodhin waited for his wife to close the door before getting up from his seat to open the front. Slowly opening the door, Rodhin was met with small group of altmer. There were three of them, two were golden plated armor etched in the way of that of an eagle's likeness both armor with glass made swords jeweled with ornament decoration. The high elf leading them was no in armor but black leather robes, a dark hood over his head covering his sharp ears and hair, leaving nothing but those peering golden eyes of his. The elf was tall, peering over Rodhin if by a few inches more. A small blonde beard was at the tip of his chin, and look to have grown a smile at the sight of Rodhin.

"Good evening." the elf spoke. "I am Ondolemar, first justicar of the Thalmor corps and representative of her elegance emissary Elenwen."

Rodhin knew who he was yet did not speak nor offer to gesture the elf inside. Ondolemar only kept smiling with his sinister polite attitude. "My..." He says."Is that rabbit stew I smell?"

* * *

Rodhin waited for the elf to set down the wooden bowl after taking a few generous gulps while his personal guard remained standing flanked close by to their charge. "Hmmm... delightful." The elf says, Ondolemar flashed a smile showing his bright teeth, Rodhin was a bit stirred by the elf's maw, it was as if he could see fangs on just how straight the elf's teeth were. "Compliments to your wife." Ondolemar spoke, "Is she around by chance?"

"She's out seeing to personal matters." Rodhin spoke bluntly and loud, giving the elf the hint to change the subject immediately.

"Hmmm, yes well I'd say she is a tremendous cook."

"You did not come out here to the countryside to try my wife's cooking."

Ondolemar golden eyes flashed right into Rodhin's and smirked, "No, not really." He then reaches into the pocket of his black coat and pulls out a tiny booklet wrapped in black leather to that his outfit. The sigil of Aldmeri Dominion etched on it in gold stitching. "I know much of you, _Rodhin Stormblade."_ said Ondolemar, flipping through the book then taking out an owl feather quill. He then looks around for a moment, "I say... do you have ink?"

Rodhin stirred from his slouched posture looking around to the shelves knowing his wife kept their pen and parchment supplies somewhere. "No matter." the elf spoke keeping Rodhin from getting from his seat. The hand holding quill then let out a faint golden hue giving the feather a tiny blue glow. The quill was able to show writing as he showed by scribbling down a few illegible words Rodhin could not understood, it seemed the elf was writing in his eleven tongue. Rodhin saw his plenty of magic during war but never see it used so conveniently that it gave Rodhin the sign that this Ondolemar was very capable mage, a sign a gloat perhaps or a warning.

"During the war you served in the tenth cohort holding the rank of centurion am I correct?" Ondolemar spoke not looking at Rodhin only keeping to his writing in his book.

"Yes." Rodhin said plainly wanting to keep his answer short for he did not wish to give the thalmor any alarm of suspicion.

"Not many nords held that rank, good for you." Ondolemar sounded non attentive to the compliment.

"The tenth legionary cohort were made up of almost completely nords, our commanding officer, General Caius thought it was suited to have a nord as his first ranking officer." Rodhin spoke.

"Yes I have a few dossiers on your service by General Caius..." Ondolemar held his book close as if trying to read it thoroughly. "During the recapture of the imperial city, Centurion StormBlade manage to take the first unit of the tenth cohort through the southern entrance of the waterfront district in an effort to flank the enemy.

During this master plan, StormBlade had routed enemy forces regrouping with Emperor Mede's vanguard and lead a front ward attack that would lead to the control of the White Gold Tower."

Ondolemar sat than sat his book down to do a small clap, "Well done Centurion. You're a true officer worth merit judging by how Caius describe your efforts during the battle of... what was it your empire called it?"

"Battle of the Red Ring." Rodhin injected.

"Yes, I'm sure imperial quaestors, scribes and archivist have already etched this for the records." Ondolemar went back to his book, "It was stated that there were other nord officers of note in your former unit." He then read off the names, "A Rikke Iron-Fur, Galmar Stone-Fist and..."

Rodhin could feel a tinge of sweat forming for he knew the next name Ondolemar was set to say but kept his face emotionless. "Ulfric Stormcloak." Ondolemar had spoken very clearly giving the Rodhin the hint on the importance of the last person mentioned.

"Now Rikke I've known had been promoted to a Legatus and Galmar is unimportant to me but it's this Ulfric that concerns me."

In the other room, Joldi kept her son nuzzled to her bosom calming him to keep quiet as she sat on a chair near their bedroom door, peaking through a crack of the wooden wall that separated their room from the rest of the house, the tiny little hole gave her a clear view of her husband sitting at the table with the elven wizard and armed guardsmen.

"Is that why you're here?" Rodhin spoke wanting the elf to quit with the vagueness of his presence and get onto the point. Enduring every minute of these Thalmor in his home at his table was agonizing.

"In a sense yes." Ondolemar said cooly. "See I know many things about you Stormblade and not just your military history."

"Such as." Rodhin said loudly showing a sign of offense.

"Such as I know that you are originally from Windhelm and that your wife was once a priestess of Talos." Ondolemar said, snaking his interjection like a punch to the gut.

Rodhin's tone had simmered down and the slight cold fear burrowed into once again at the mention of his wife. "She is a priestess no longer. After the Jarls uphold the decree you forced the emperor to sign that concordant or whatever, her monastery was shut down and she no longer took the part of practice Talos worship."

"Yes and that angered you." Ondolemar said try to finish off on Rodhin's words, "And thus why you marched with Ulfric Stormcloak to Markarth in the hopes of regaining the effort to worship your false god."

"So you want to know what happened? The official story on what we did to those bretons!?" Rodhin yelled. Ondolemar remained silent waiting for the nord to tell his tale.

"Monstrous things, I had initially thought we were to fight forsworn, they were no more than common bandits to me but once we arrived during our first battle with them... it was as if we had gone back to the ancient days of our ancestors. Raiding homes, plundering and taking everything in our sight, men... raping women." Rodhin turned his gaze away from the elf as if ashamed thinking back on it. "And Ulfric did not care. Nothing but anger consumed him, he thought fending off the bretons and returning the worship of Talos would regain himself a sense of honor. The Great War took a toll on him."

"So is that an excuse? Ulfric was just a battered old soldier?" Ondolemar replied.

Rodhin's face straighten and he looked back up to the elf. "No." He said plainly, "I turned myself in when Jarl Hroldir arrived with his imperial contingent. As I made Ulfric complied. We haven't spoken sense Markarth."

"And you were shortly released arriving here in Whiterun, wanting to enjoy a simple mundane life on this shanty of a farmstead how generic." Ondolemar teased writing into his book. "Such a simple for a man who _isn't_ so simple."

"I have seen nor been in contact with Ulfric since Markarth. That's the truth!" Rodhin snapped.

"I don't _care_ about Ulfric." Ondolemar was then giving Rodhin a hard look. "As I said before I'm here in a sense on his behalf but that will be the official report we will give to the every known deputy and head of state within Skyrim and other provinces of the Empire. The _un_ official reason, is I am here mainly for _you,_ Rodhin Stormblade."

Rodhin fear quickly turned into a deep state of confusion. Ondolemar picked up on that and spoke to clarify. "Let's go back to the battle of the Red Ring yes? You regroup with Emperor Titus Mede's forces and together you laid siege of the White Gold Tower, what happened then? Does Lord Naarifin come to mind?"

"He was the general of your Dominion forces right?"

"Correct he was bested in battle, hung from the tower and there were witness reports of him taken by some winged creature. His whereabouts are currently unknown. We currently under the investigation on finding him."

"He worshiped a Deadra did he not? Why not ask them?" Rodhin said with dry defiance.

Ondoelmar showed no amusement, "I'd rather ask you instead."

"What do I know!?" Rodhin snapped. "What ever you are accusing me of I won't have it! Not in my own home!" He barks, slamming his fist on the table. In the other room Joldi cradled her son close to her bosom as to keep him calm for they were both disturbed by the loudness. The little baby letting out a soft coo.

Ondoelmar remained unchanged from his still yet cool demeanor. "No one is accusing you of anything. We merely wanting you to answer questions."

"Then ask your damn questions!" Rodhin snarled through gleaming teeth his paitence was completely drawn out and anger floored him, "Then be well on your way out of my home! And out of Skyrim for the matter!"

The elf then let out a sly laugh, beginning to rise from his seat, "We will leave your... _home_." His piercing golden eyes darting around showing an obvious distaste for the nord's accommodations. _"If you could call it a home..."_ He murmured. "But you will have to come with us."

Rodhin's anger shot down, and the sharp tinge of fearfulness quips him again. "Wha...what?!"

"Under the righteous authority of the Aldmeri Dominion behest by your Emperor I have the authority to gather and detain suspects and or person of interests that could prove an insurgent with the peace under the rules of the White Gold Concordant." Ondolemar spoke, reading off as if this was well rehearsed. It probably was due to the fact he has said this with multiple residents within Skyrim.

"What charge?" Rodhin spoke, not loud but a voice of pure defiance.

"As I said before, you are a _person of interests._ " The elf says calmly. "NOW." His voice then perks up into a booming command. "Come with me."

"No!" A voice echoes out, bursting from the Joldi storms out from her room. Her face taught with anger but she the stillness enough to set her son safely in his crib to on which she had then taken a large sharply fine steel dagger. She gripping it tight in her right hand, forming into a stance as if she was ready to pounce. Ondolemar seemed unfazed yet his armed troops were alert and drawn their weapons as well. One with a glass mace the other a sharp glass sword.

Rodhin had quickly gotten up to his feet fearful now for his wife. "Joldi! No!"

"So this is the wife then?" Ondolemar sly smile pursed his angled face. "Back from handling those _personal matters_ I presume? Great stew by the way, I have to admit ever since I've come to Skyrim I've been having quite the taste for it, it's rather embarrassing really." He giggled.

"He isn't coming with you. You're not taking him." Joldi growled. She remained unmoved from her attack position.

"Joldi think about what you're doing!" Rodhin pleads.

"I won't let them have you!" Joldi yells back, her eyes still on the elves.

"Please my love..."

"They already know of you! I cannot let them take you!"

Ondolemar then steps forward now standing close Joldi not moved by the steel dagger that pointed directly to sternum. "Listen to your husband my dear. You are in a battle you _won't_ win."

Joldi glared up into the Altmer's golden eyes and sneered. "The elves didn't think Ysgramor could conquer Skyrim with just five hundred men."

Ondolemarr smiled. "Is that so."

No one not noticing that his hands were kept behind his back, Ondolemar conjured a spell that in a quick snap of his finger a bright haze of light flared out with an after shock that pulsed the room. The full power of the spell hit Joldi directly and it did not take but a second to realize that she had been hit by a thunder bolt. Her body went numb as she was in a quick state of paralysis yet Ondolemar catches her before she could fall to the floor.

"NO!" yelled Rodhin, everything happened so suddenly that it took a late second to react. He quickly lunged forward but elf armed with the sword quickly reacted to stop him. Before the elf could strike, Rodhin jerked to his left out of the blade's path and quickly latch on to the elf's armed wrist. Using both his hands he twists onto the elf's arm, sharp burning pain shooting up into the thalmor soldier's arm causing him to let lose of his weapon. This was an old disarming trick Rodhin had learned during his days in the legion. Rodhin then quickly takes the elf's glass sword, turning it so he was now holding the hilt with the blade facing forward towards the elf in a swift motion that it all happened at once, he runs the sword into the elf's gut. The glass sword cutting through the elf's armor effortlessly piercing him into the fact that now everyone could see the sword poking from the other side.

The thalmor went down dead to the floor with the other soldier armed with the mace being quick to respond. The she-elf charges with her mace risen above her head, Rodhin quickly blocked the strike with the sword. The blocked had enough force to push the soldier back stumbling on her feet for her footing was no misplace from the exertion. That was Rodhin's chance to come in for a huge blow, perhaps the one that finished her but before Rodhin could finish his charge Ondolemar spoke. "Ah...Ah...Ah." He sung.

Rodhin stopped in his pace looking towards the elven mage who was now holding his wife, the dagger she once had now in the elf's hand and to her throat.

"Joldi..." Rodhin gasps.

A loud howl of a baby's cries hollers out from the other room, it seem the baby was disturbed from all the commotion. "What's this now?" Ondolemar says, glancing back to the room. "A baby?"

Tears quickly flowed from Joldi's eyes as she could tell how scared her son was from the holler of his cries and how she is now helpless to tend to him. Rodhin drops the sword as well as dropping to his knees. "Please... I'll go with you..." He says, trembling with tears starting to form of his own. The other soldier quickly took the sword from Rodhin's reach and then got a small sense of petty revenge by striking her pommel onto the nord's face.

Ondolemar perked up an eyebrow "Really?"

"Yes!" Rodhin cried out his nose now streaming blood, "Just don't hurt my wife and son I...I beg of ya!"

"You beg..." Ondolemar trailed on. A silence then purse though with only the sound of the baby still crying in dire need of his parents. Joldi couldn't bear so she first spoke out. "Pl...please, let me tend my son." She speaks in a tearful stutter. "He needs me..."

"Ssssssh." Ondolemar says softly into her ear. "Settle yourself now." The blade still pressed onto Joldi's neck.

"See how difficult this has gotten?" Ondolemar continued. "Difficult. You nords are all _difficult_. It's one of the main reasons why I don't like nords. That and it is because you're vermin. I know it sounds harsh but that is the cold hard truth. You are nothing but vermin, fumbling around in a land you stole on a continent that was never your home!"

Ondolemar turned his gazed onto to Rodhin, "You're wife is right you know. We know of you and I especially know _who_ you are. Centurion. In fact it would be safer for me and my organization to kill you." And just as said that, Ondolemar casually slid the blade across Joldi's neck. A sharp stream of blood pouring from her throat going all the way across.

"NOOO!" Rodhin howled getting to his feet charging towards his wife. Ondolemar waited for Rodhin to get close and in a swift motion brought the blade into his stomach. Rodhin to concern for his wife that he was forgetful that the elf was still armed. Rodhin went down to the floor with a thud gripping his stomach knowing that wound was deep an organs were pierced. He was bleeding internally and slowly now.

But he was still conscious enough to start dragging himself to wife's now pale body.

Ondolemar stood by smiling and watched. "That's it Rodhin your nearly there!" He cheered mockingly watching as the nord helplessly drags his bloodied body along the wooden floor, using on hand to pull himself while the other hand kept to his wound trying to hold in any blood along with his entrails.

Rodhin was finally close enough to reach out to Joldi who was now as cold as a glacier, he said nothing only staring at his wife with wide shaking eyes. "Jol...Joldi..."

Ondolemar then comes kneeling down while bringing the dagger into Rodhin's back. Rodhin let out a croak with blood now spewing from his mouth. "Behold the future. Behold the Thalmor." Ondolemar hissed into his ear. "Thanks for the stew again. I enjoyed my visit."

Rodhin head went limp hitting the floor, now the nord laid dead with his wife.

Ondolemar got to his feet, leaving the dagger into the dead nord's back, dusting his hands. "That went rather smoothly."

The other soldier smiled and nodded her head, "Of course sir." She speaks.

Ondolemar shot her a glare "Don't speak to me unless I talk to you directly!" He barked.

The soldier's smile that evaporated and she quickly nods her head apologetically. "Of course sir! Apologies!"

Ondolemar looked to the other thalmor soldier who was now a corpse. "Pathetic ingrate." Ondolemar spat, he goes to the door. "Burn this hovel of a home."

"But sir..." said the soldier, "What about the child?"

She was indicating to the other room on where the baby could still be heard in sorrowful screams.

Ondolemar stopped in the doorway not looking back, "What child?" He says nonchalantly before stepping away.

The soldier was quick in her master's order to burn the house. Casting a flames spell, the soldier focused her magic on the roof since it was a gathered mass of hay, wood and brittle tile. The flames roared drowning out the baby's unbroken cries. _Powerful lungs that baby must have._ The soldier thought. But the elf ignored it further and walked out of the now burning home.

Ondolemar was already on his black steed waiting for the soldier to be on her chestnut as he watched the flames flare up almost completely covering the home with an approved smirk. A loud crack of thunder then hollows in up above and Ondolemar could see dark clouds starting to form. _Strange..._ He thought _The sky was clear and filled with stars not just a moment ago._ But his concern for the weather snuffed out of his mind seeing how weather in Skyrim was always poor for his standards. As the soldier gets onto her horse, taking the horse of her dead comrade by a rope as well, Ondolemar kicked his steed to move seeing that now their task was over.

Heavy winds kick in with a flurry of rain as lightning and thunder flashes and crackles on. The storm grew to its might fast into such a fury that it was beyond the usual heavy storm that came to Skyrim. It almost seemed that it was not bipolar weather that the elf had thought was the cause of this now great storm but as if by chance or maybe intervention from a higher source that made the weather come so suddenly, flushing out the flames of the home quickly before the fire had touched the baby's crib. The baby's cries then quiets out softly. Cool rain only causing him to murmur uncomfortably.

Soon the flames were all gone, leaving nothing but a burned mash of charred wood and hay, the baby in his crib, a blanket atop of him with a necklace of a black pendant draped around his neck. A host mist of smoke came from the ruins of the home as now the rains had suddenly stop came to a halt. As if Kyne herself the mother of the Storm, Goddess of the Wind had intervene keeping the child from coming to harm from the flames.

Trotting down the market road out of the direction from Solitude was a one horse carriage, pulling a small cart of supplies along with a imperial couple, a man and a woman as its passengers. The driver Raxle was a blacksmith who previously was stationed in Solitude as the Imperial quartermaster at Castle Dour for the legion. He had finally finished his allotted time with the legion and now had the money to take him and his wife Maesia back to their native Cyrodiil to his home town of Chorrol.

They had been on the road the entire day since the sun had drawn. The moon Secunda had just came to view after the rains had stopped and the clouds cleared off.

"Look there!" Maesia points far off to the distance where she could faintly see clouds of smoke wafting up from somewhere nearby. The horse carriage had steered further up the road until it went to a halt for both Raxle and Maesia to see that the smoke was lifting from what looked the ruins of a small house.

"Fire from a lightning strike?" Raxle said in form of a question but his tone signaled off that was what he had concluded. He snaps his reins for it continue trotting.

"Could be?" Maesia said. "The storm was rather dreadful thankfully it was only brief."

Her husband let out a snort, "Brief or not, it delayed us. I wasn't hoping to be in Whiterun for this long."

Maesia only giggled and gave her husband a soft playful tap on the shoulder, "Stop your whining Whiterun was a beautiful city and we were both glad to see Dragonsreach so up close."

"Not as beautiful as Solitude mind you and the Blue Palace is way more..."

Maesia touched Raxle in a form of silencing him a startled if not concerned look on her face. "What?" Raxle gasped.

"I...I hear something..." She looked over coming to the burn home. "Coming from where that burned house is."

"Maesia you could be just..."

"Sssssh!" Maesia snapped rather harshly. Raxle stopped the carriage annoyed by his wife yet deter to whatever was concerning her.

Maesia strained her ears for the sound to come back to her. She heard it before, it sounded like a murmur, a faint moan, a cry almost. She listens for it again...

 _"MMMMRH...ooooooo!"_

A strike of alarm jolted her in the back and Maesia leapt from her side of the carriage darting to where the home was. "Maesia!" Raxle cried scrambling to get off his side, chasing after his wife.

Maesia was already running across the field rushing to the home. "Someone's in there! Someone needs our help!"

Raxle frantically continue to chase for his wife but she was nearly at the home "Maesia wolves come out at this time get back to the cart woman!"

Maesia stopped standing at the blackened threshold of the door frame, panting and trying to catch her breath. The roof of the house was entirely gone but frames of where walls once stood and furniture place could still be made out from the burned smoke and ash. Maesia cautiously stepped inside to what looked like a living area and stopped dead in her tracks when she stopped to see charred remains scattered on the floor. She quickly covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming. A man and a woman for what it looked like judging by the frame of their body, another body was a distance away from the two but Maesia could not tell what it was. _"Elf maybe?"_ It looked slim enough. She was ready to turn away and leave, taking a step back out of the door when the soft murmur echoes again. Maesia stopped and turn to her left to the direction that could've been a bedroom of some sort.

Raxle had finally caught up to her. "Maesia we need to..." His wife ignored only stepping away from him going to where a bedroom had once been. Raxle went further in to follow her, seeing the burned bodies on the floor. "Stendaar's mercy!" He gasped.

Maesia oblivious to her husband followed the murmuring to where a crumbled piece of cradle remained nestled atop a soft mound of hay. Shaking she crept over to it, kneeling down where something was writhing under a blue blanket. She pulls the cover back and her eyes grow wide.

There unharmed and unburnt was a baby. The baby whined and cooed but stopped it crying when he saw Maesia looking down on him, a smile grew across his face. The smile was so pleasant that Maesia smiled back at him, tears coming down her eyes. "By all the Divines!" She cried picking up the baby.

Raxle storms in shocked into disbelief to see what his wife was holding. He stood frozen unable to form words as his mind raced trying asses what he was looking at.

"It's a boy Raxle." Maesia said, "Broad shouldered, fair skin, a nord."

"And he was just... laying there?"

Maesia nodded her head, "Mara kept him under her watchful gaze."

"But...but...Maesia..." Raxle knew what was running through his wife's head, he knew she was angling for something out of this and he was not sure if he could go through with it.

"This is a sign Raxle!"

"A sign?!"

Maesia walked close towards her husband, the baby still in her arms. "How many times we've tried for a child of our own...and failed...how many times have I've made offering to Dibella and to Mara!?"

"He could still have family, we just can't take him from his homeland!"

"Look behind you Raxle!" Maesia gestured to the massacre behind them. "He has no family, no home."

She then places a hand on Raxle face and smiled, "Don't you see husband, this is a sign, the divines lead us to him."

Raxle looked to his wife and then to baby who's bright blue eyes stared into his grey ones. And then his heart felt as if it was melting. "Let's...go back to the cart...we don't want anyone stealing it." He says somberly. It was a tone giving Maesia the hint that he was agreeing.

Maesia wrapped the blanket she found the boy in tightly around the baby waiting for Raxle to climb in and take the horse's reins. He looked over to baby once more before smiling, then something caught his eye. The baby had a necklace with a dark pendant on it. The baby having it in its hand playing with it by biting it. "What's that?" He says pointing.

Maesia took the pendant and studied for a moment. "It's an amulet of some sort."

Raxle went wide for instantly recognized it, "An amulet of Talos!? Maesia he can't keep that, having something referring to the ninth Divine is forbidden!"

Maesia shot Raxle a glare and looked back pleasantly to the baby, "It's his, I'm not getting rid of it. We'll hide it once we get to Cyrodiil but I won't take away something that pertains to his homeland." She said sternly. She then looked to the back of it, rubbing her thumb on the strange etchings. Raxle saw them too. "What's that there?"

Maesia studied them closely, "Its...in dragon! I've seen this language before back on my studies on early Nord history during my time at the College of Winterhold."

"You were archivists for those mages for only but a few years Maesia." said Raxle rolling his eyes, "You act like your some sort of moth priest."

Maesia ignored her husband's japes, "Now my study in the dragon tongue is brief but I recognize some of the words, I knew a man who used to work with the Blades who helped me identify their alphabet. Now..." She read it closely, "Ro...Rohan. That's what it says...yes. I think maybe Raxle...that this is his name!"

"Rohan eh? Well it suits him, he's a nord after all." Raxle snapped the reins and the horse began its walk.

"A nord and _our son_." said Maesia.

A smile grew across Raxle's face. "Yes


	2. Ambush!

Hadvar crouched low in the rocky hillside as he and his unit remained hidden in the forest looking down to the main road below. It was near daybreak and the sun was starting to gleam across the hillside horizon, the air clean and crisp smelling of morning dew. It was a quiet day perfect for an ambush. General Tullius had been having this plan in the making for months, a lot delicate procedures had to be taken accord. From daily run through of missives by gathered intel to troops movements across the province under guard and out of sight as to not trigger off any rebel spies, all had to be done delicately and Tullius's hand alone so much that if all went according to it would be pull of effortlessly and with bound reward.

So it was no surprise Tullius wanted to see to this ambush personally what was surprising was Hadvar being in part of this. He was elated when he was assigned to Tullius's main vanguard a few months earlier taken that he rather be on the frontlines than had some boring job as in being in Solitude's complement at the city guard where most legionnaires who wasn't good enough were stationed. Hadvar bit his tongue at the thought, he shouldn't have thought of that, there were good people in Solitude's defense forces. Still being out here under the main charge of Augustus Tullius, General of the Fourth Legionary cohort and _Legatus Augusti_ of Emperor Titus Mede II.

It was still dark out when the envoy came baring the general news of the rebels' movement. Tullius had barked order immediately sending everyone in the camp into a frenzy, now the time had finally came.

Ulfric Stormcloak former legionary officer now Jarl of Windhelm and sovereign of Eastmarch Hold had gathered his top generals in a trip to Falkreath where he would them make gathered efforts in gaining the Falkreath Jarl support. Dengeir of Stuhn the Jarl of Falkreath Hold, was know to be an ardent stormcloak supporter. And Ulfric was elated to hear that Dengeir had readied troops for his army yet wanted to discuss terms in the matter _in person_. And as Tullius's had thought, Ulfric's so called honor _(more like arrogance)_ got the best of him and Ulfric had set to take his best men, leave the comfort and safety of his castle and march on to Falkreath where he would honor an old warrior turned Jarl's word. Little did Ulfric know, Dengeir had... _stepped down_ from the role of Jarl as of recently and his nephew Siddgeir had taken his place. And Siddgeir wasn't that much of a fan of Ulfric so, he didn't mind when Tullius marched in a full garrison and decided to wait for the Jarl of Windhelm to make an appearance.

The plan was coming together, message came that Ulfric and his guards were out of the Rift Hold and were just entering Falkreath Hold, and by Tullius's calculation they would be on this very road at the very spot right for Tullius and his unit to march out.

Hadvar could feel his legs getting tired from bending them as he crouched so very low. He could the intensity of on his fellow soldier's face, the anxious for a bit of movement to come storming out. His eyes strained as he tries to look out to the distance of the road. The sun was giving off a bad glare, obscuring his sight almost, he shades his brow with his hand only to see nothing but a bare road. Hadvar lets out a soft groan, feeling annoyed and with a tinge of anxiety rolling in his stomach, the waiting was intense. He looked to one his squadmates who crouched low nearby, Duland was his name, the lad was a scout from Dragon Bridge as he remembered. "Duland!" Hadvar says in a harsh whisper, calling to him. Duland ignored only keeping his eyes forward like everyone else. "Duland! You see anything?"

Not saying anything, Duland pulled out a spyglass from his side satchel and looked out through it, he then shakes his head. "No." he whispers, "Nothing." He then gingerly tosses the spyglass over to Hadvar, Hadvar catches it smoothly. "Here." says Duland, "You'll probably get a better look from where you're standing."

Hadvar looks out the spyglass and as Duland implied he did get better vantage from where he was. The sight of the road was clearer yet to his disappointment nothing. He hoped the scout who had gave Tullius the news of Ulfric being on the move on this road was correct otherwise that poor boy was going to be flogged until the crows croaked. Hadvar scans the road with the spyglass going to towards the direction on where the Skyrim/Cyrodiil border. The spyglass was so clear, Hadvar almost thought he could make the outlines Jerral Mountains onto where Bruma was settled but he knew that it would be too far, but still they were close to Cyrodiil's border and no doubt when this over the general would have Ulfric hogtied and taken to the capital Imperial City on where he would be set for trial. Before Hadvar was ready to give Duland back his spyglass he spotted something coming towards them northbound onto where the border was a few miles off. It was unit of stormcloak rebels but a man. Hadvar zoomed the glass in to get a closer look. It was a man no doubt, a nord, light brown hair, short beard and muscled like most of his kinsmen. The man was dressed in leathers the same most mercenaries would be in and was armed with steel daggers belted to the cuirass along with a steel sword in its scabbard. A sellsword by the looks only their lot would have the gear for that, nothing of interest.

"Hey!" a sharp whisper had came from someone in his group look. The soldier pointed out, a mass of people was spotted marching up the road towards them southbound. Hadvar focused the glass on them and his heart began to race once he saw who it was.

On foot were a count of twenty to thirty men and women, stormcloaks by their light chainmail and blue tunics all armed with the traditional nordic weapons, greatswords and engraved axes. A horse draw carriage was being steered by one of them with what looked to be supplies as three horsemen, two wearing those great bear pelt signifying that these were the officers of the group while the third atop a black steed was in noble robes befitting of a Jarl's station, it was Ulfric Stormcloak. "Get ready for the signal!" said Hadvar softly but loud enough for his squad to hear him.

"Hey…" someone spoke, it was Duland pointing to the road, "Who's that?" Hadvar didn't need to use the glass to see that it was that sellsword he saw earlier coming the road onto where Ulfric and his troops were coming up on. "He's going to get in the way!" said Duland.

"Casualties are made." said Hadvar regretful, "But here's hoping he's got the sense to get out of the fray once the fighting starts."

Hadvar set down the spyglass and felt the adrenalin pumping through him. It was time. Across the road on the other side of their gorge, Hadvar could see archer notch an arrow and quickly loses it, it hitting the carriage driver directly. Then the low blare of the war horn signals out, "NOW!" he could hear Tullius scream.

* * *

Ralof hate to drag his feet through the mud but he felt that was doing without a sense of knowing. It was a long trek coming out of Eastmarch to the Rift onto Falkreath but it's not like they had no choice. Being rebel it was hard to move openly with imperial eyes being everywhere. It irritated him once he thought on it. To move so timidly like a rat in the shadows, in own country more or less, _country_ he like to say not _province._ But what could he do with the empire seeping its claws into his homeland so deep that he was almost treated as a stranger by his own countrymen. For now he had to fight not for himself but for all nords to walk freely in Skyrim and not under the Empire's constant gaze. _"Soon, Ralof_." said Ulfric, a few days earlier when they spoke. He liked that about the Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm and Eastmarch Hold would to take the time and speak to him some country boy who spent most of life at his parent's sawmill in a village people would pass by, and about how they were liberate Skyrim no less.

" _Once I've had word with the Jarl of Falkreath we'll have the troops to make a big push for Whiterun and Markarth. It will deter the imperials greatly."_ Ralof remembered the assuring smile on Ulfric's face. The confidence that stewed in him was inspiring if not contagious and Ralof went on assured that this war would be closer for a stormcloak victory and he would of course do his part in it. But for now he had to drag his tired legs to up this ragged road, his goatskin boots matted in mud and horse shit from the days of travel before.

"Don't see how you're tired." said voice, it was his shield sister Alga who was looking at him grinning. Ralof raised an eyebrow caring for Alga to explain. She moved nudged the great warhammer she was carrying that was resting on her shoulder, "I've got this thing on me at all times and I'm fine." she boasted. Ralof only snorted. "I'm not tired." He grumbled.

"Pfft! You've been dragging your ass like some horker with a bad hangover since we've left Riften." she giggled. "While you're only carrying that axe on your belt."

Ralof rolled his eyes, his mind fumbling for jape of his own. "I didn't grow living in a mine." he teased implying to her origin, she had came from a clan of miners from Eastmarch as he last remembered. "I come from a family of lumberjacks, we worked a mill where all we used were light axes. You've got those big shoulders, built like a troll's. Carrying a hammer should be easy for you."

Alga gave him a sharp jab on the shoulder, "I guess walking is easy for me too." she chided.

"I tell you." Ralof continued, "Once we get to Falkreath, I'm going to get me a nice rye tankard of mead, two if not and then maybe I'll show you how a hungover horker walks."

Alga chuckled even more loudly, "Two tankards get you drunk enough for you get to hungover in the morning!? By the Nine you are such a lightweight!"

"You don't know the mead they sell at the inn there. The innkeep makes a special brew with oil soaked honeycomb and blisterwort. A half cup of it would have your feeling like a rock. There's a reason why they call the inn _Dead Man's Drink_ and it ain't because of the grave."

Alga rolled her eyes giving off that she would believe it when she sees it. Ralof only smiled, giving her a look on how assured he was but before Alga could continue their conversation a sharp whirl of something whizzed overhead of them, it didn't take Ralof but half a second to find that it was an arrow and that it hit the driver of the carriage behind them directly in the neck. The poor sod let out a wet croak before falling off the carriage immediately. The horse stirred and then the loud sound of an imperial war horn echoed out. "AMBUSH!" Ralof called out and he could he others calling it out too. Ulfric who was on his horse had to calm his at it bucked from the noise. He drew steel blade and the stormcloaks did as well.

Soon a swarm of arrows then flies out from over head, Ralof in quick perception saw legionary archers posted on the hills overhead of them. His reflexes kicked in and he dove for the side of the carriage out of the arrow's path. Alga sadly was not quick enough for four arrows had struck her directly. She let out a loud grunt of pain as she fell in the ground, Ralof lying prone at the carriage's side could see her a few distances away. Her grey eyes still open looking as if she was looking at him. A still hollowness hit them and felt that he was in another world for a moment but the second sound of the war horn blew and he went back to reality as he saw legions of imperial soldiers charging from two directions, their swords raised as they let out a battle cry.

He looked to his fallen shield sibling and rage pursed. He drew his axe and charged out with the rest of stormcloak brethren. "VICTORY OR SOVNGARDE!" he screamed as he connected the first blow to a legion's shoulder. The steel cleaved through the lad's armor letting out a jet of blood once Ralof pulled his axe out of him. Ralof finished with a quick swipe at the soldier's exposed neck.

Another imperial charged at him at full speed, Ralof ducked low a timed moment, pushing the soldier upward with the force of his body, cutting off the imperial's inertia and throwing him to the ground. He stomped at the downed soldier's face then finished with an executing move of slamming axe hard on the imperial's chest.

He looked over to where he had last saw Ulfric, concerned for he knew the main force of the legion would focus on the Jarl. A thundering sound echoed over him, a small group imperial soldiers were flung in the air, flying over. That Ulfric's work alright, using the power of the Voice, the Thu'um to pushes the legion off him. Ralof hastily made his way towards him. He knew protecting Ulfric was the top priority. Thu'um or not Ulfric could not best all of them.

He runs through mass of fighting, bodies hitting the ground like flies on a pie, Ralof was careful not to trip over them. A tinge of shock and concern flew inside him as he saw that the majority of the bodies were of his side, stormcloaks.

" _By the might of Talos!"_ his cursed in his head, _"There's too many of them!"_

He swung his axe at incoming imperial on which he instantly cut down, still running towards Ulfric. Ralof was happy enough to see that Ulfric was in his sight and still standing, still in battle with the legion. Sweat and dirt had covered him yet Ralof was not going to relent yet. In a furious battle cry, Ralof had unsheathed the steel dagger he had holstered behind him and with both weapons in hand he charge out. It was in a quick combination. First stabbed with the dagger then cut with the axe. The imperials had their heavy armor leaving only a few weak spots for a damaging blow. But Ralof knew the pressure points. He first went for one soldier, his dagger right at the man's neck, using the blunt top of his axe to punch at the man's gut after the stab the soldier croaked over, leaving the back of his neck exposed giving Ralof the chance to slam his axe upon it in a miniature decapitation.

He kept to his double weapon style, not a lot to exert his energy too much but enough to make a path towards the Jarl. He cut one unsuspecting soldier down while he was busy in a fight with another rebel. He ran up on archer for before the soldier could notch one arrow, Ralof in running speed cut at the man's face, knowing the sorry bastard had lost an eye in that row.

Ralof was in good practice keeping enemy attackers off him, moving swiftly. He quickly sees one soldier cut one of his comrades down, in anger he charges at the legionary the soldier hears him and spins with his bloody sword in hand. Ralof had got close, his axe raised high an overhead but before he brought the axe down his paused stun onto whom he was about to kill, the soldier sees him too and before he could attack he as well stopped in his charge as he sees Ralof's face. Ralof still could really believe it, unmoved yet could make out on whom he was seeing through all the blood and mud. Nord, clean shaven, reddish brown hair and pale eyes. They grew up in the same village together, their fathers both fought in the Great War, dying together as comrades. Memories of them playing near the river, daring each other to near the old barrow played through Ralof's mind in a sharp flashback. It pained him greatly that he could barely move to bring the weapon close to the soldier. _"You're…"_ his mind fumbled _"You're the enemy...but why can't I attack you."_

Judging by the hesitation of the soldier, he could not dare to move too. Another thundering shout echoed out from the Jarl's thu'um and it brought Ralof back to himself again. In an act of defiance, Ralof punches the soldier square in the face sending him to the ground, he letting out a sharp _"Oof!"_ Ralof darts past him making his way to Ulfric. "RALOF!" the soldier called out to him, yet Ralof ignored. He was back into fighting trance once more.

His eyes had then suddenly locked onto a very special target. Judging by the design of his armor and the old greyed description. Imperial man, grey cropped hair. He recognized the insignia of rank of the imperial's armor, General Tullius and he had his sword blazen in the blood of his fallen comrades. "FOR SKYRIM!" Ralof roared charging for the general, he close his axe well right on the general's head. Just one good swing and the general would be down. A victory in itself and he'd be the one that did it. _"Just one...good swing."_ As he got close, his heart had raced some more and his glowing snarl slightly formed into a grin as he got closer to the general and just as he was close enough to bring the the axe down…

"WEAPONS DOWN! BY ALL OF OBLIVION STAND DOWN!" said a familiar voice. It was Ulfric. An unconsciously, just as he was standing so close to Tullius's profile, the axe and the dagger had fell from his hands and Ralof then dropped to his knees. In that quick moment, it was all over.

* * *

Tullius carefully stepped over the bodies as he gathered a survey of the battle's aftermath. A small praefect of a page walked close to him, his tiny log book out. "Casualties." Tullius spoke plainly, his eyes forward and his hand behind his back. "Fifteen so far sir." said the prefect, "Plus injured. The rebels have twice as much, we've seemed to have through them leaving only Ulfric and a handful of the rest of his personal guard."

"Good." said Tullius. "I want a full estimate once we've done gathering the remaining rebels here. You are dismissed." he said. The praefect saluted and stepped off. He sees two of his men handling Ulfric who had his wrist bound taking him to the carriages that was carrying the other rebels. "Bind his maw shut!" Tullius barked. His mind going back on Ulfric's talents. The power of the Voice was legend here in Skyrim with lore even resonating to some knowledge of imperials as well. He had no other strategy to combat it when Ulfric used it so gagging him seemed the only reasonable solution. The soldiers did what they were told and one of the men took some torn hide and leather and tightly wrapping it around Ulfric's face, his mouth now fully closed with his jaw even tied so as he could not move it. The Jarl could do nothing but let out displeasure groans as he angrily stared at Tullius. Tullius ignored the Jarl's glare, spotting one his soldiers who was mending a injured arm. Hadvar his name as he remembered. "Good work out there soldier." He congratulated patting his shoulder gently. "Thank you sir." said Hadvar a somber but proud smile on him.

"Sir!" a soldier barked, he and another legionnaire was dragging some skinny fellow who was whimpering keeping his eyes low. The general was a little perplex at the sight of the lad, he was a nord, dressed in peasant clothes, dirt on the face. He seemed very out of place and so waited to see what his men had brought him here for. "Caught him at the camp trying to take Captain Benin's Bay." said one soldier.

Tullius folded his arms, "A horse thief huh?"

The lad spoke up, "I...I….didn't know I…..please….I'm no thief!"

"First took him for a rebel spy when I saw him going after the horses." said the other soldier, holding the man's hands behind his back.

"What?!" said the lad, "I'm not a sp...spy! I'm not for the rebels!"

Tullius was not in the mood to hear it, "Gather his name and origin and put him on the cart with the others."

The soldier snapped into a salute with a "Yes sir!" taking the whimpering nord with them.

"We need to finish up quick." said Tullius to Hadvar as they both walked on. "I want to be at the garrison while there's still daylight."

Hadvar stopped in his tracks "Garrison?"

"Helgen." said Tullius turning to face Hadvar. "I've already informed captain Tenya of coming arrival."

"We're not going to the capital?" Hadvar asked, he had thought since their proximity to the southern border that they would be a day's ride to Cyrodiil to reach the Imperial City. A somber yet grim look then quickly shrouded the general's face once Hadvar had asked the question. "No." said Tullius softly his eyes looking towards the ground.

" _Last minute change of plans…"_ Hadvar thought yet he did not admonish any further questions. He knew there had to be only one reason why Tullius would have Ulfric sent to a nearby garrison and not to the capital for trial. "Is there something wrong soldier?" Tullius asked, snapping Hadvar out of his deep thought. Hadvar's mind had been in some contemplation that he had almost forgotten that the general was still looking at him. "No sir!" Hadvar snapped, his stance in attention going into a salute. "Good." Tullius turned on his heel and continued to walk, Hadvar followed. " _So,"_ Hadvar's mind continued to ponder _"The general wants to end this quick then."_

"General!" another soldier called out to him.

"Stendarr's mercy!" Tullius growled once more stopping to see who needed his attention. "What!?" he barked. He and Hadvar stops to see a small group of soldier carrying an unconscious man.

"Who's that?" Tullius asked as they brought the man to him. His eyes were shut and he looked to have been covered in dirt, must've been lying in the ground for sometime. Hadvar's eyes went wide once he recognized the man. It was the man he saw earlier coming down the road, the mercenary looking fellow. _"Shor…"_ Hadvar mumbled to himself, _"I'd hoped he'd gotten out of the way."_

"Two men tried to apprehend him during the skirmish sir." said one soldier. "He cut them both down quick, he almost sliced Reingeir's face off if Degean here hadn't knocked him on the back of his skull." the soldier nodded his head to a wounded soldier who was carrying the man, bandages wrapped around his face this must've been this Reingeir.

"He doesn't look like a rebel sir." Hadvar said.

"Yeah but I damn well lost my eye thanks so him!" Reingeir barked indicating he demaned some form of satisfaction.

Tullius looked at the man some more, his mind in deep thought onto what to do with him. "Any form of indentifaction on him?"

The soldiers shook their head. "None sir." the previous one said. "It seemed odd that he'd pop in right at the attack, no locals use this road."

"He looked to have been coming from the south." Hadvar implied.

"You mean from Bruma?" the soldier asked. "We can't just leave him here general, the way he took down those troops. He's dangerous."

"Agreed." Tullius spoke wanting to deal with situation quickly, "Put him with the others."

Hadvar was still unsure. "But sir there's still…"

"I gave an order!" Tullius barked. "Now let's go, we're burnin daylight."


	3. Unbound, Unburnt, Unbroken-I

_Rain rapts the window softly as the storm draws on. Rohan sat at his mother's bedside. Her frail body laid there weak and wheezing while she watches him stare at the smooth black pendant in his hand. "That," she says in a soft voice, "Was on you the day we found you." Rohan stared at the pendant intentively as it dangled on the necklace band, the strange markings etched on the back of you. "My boy…" his mother places a frail hand on his lap. "You were gift from the divines." Tears then suddenly began to swell in Rohan's eyes. "Almost twenty plus years of happiness you've brought to your father and I." she smiled weakly._

" _Ma…" he gasped trying not to cry any further, he places his hand over her's._

" _But…" she continued. "You have so much life ahead of you but my time has come to an end."_

" _Mother no." Rohan said plainly. She only struggled out a faint chuckle._

" _I know you my son. I know you were selling a sword arm pushing every coin you earned for a healer but as I said before, my time has come. I must rejoin Raxle, I must rejoin your father."_

 _Tears began to roll down Rohan's face. "Mother, please!"_

 _Her faint greying eyes then stared directly at him "I had a dream about you know, I dreamed that I was standing in land in fire and blood, darkness shrouding over me and scream hollered out. But then you came in light of glorious virtue."_

" _You must go my dear boy" she continued. "You must go to your home, to Skyrim."_

" _I am home." Rohan said, holding her hand._

" _You must. For I know the Gods have plans for you. I see it in my dreams."_

 _Her hands start to feel cold as it shakes rapidly in Rohan's grasp._

" _It…" she says in faint gasps, "Is your...destiny."_

 _The shaking stops and she turns her head facing the other way closing her eyes._

" _Mother?"_

* * *

Pain….

Hot, sore, thundering pain was all Rohan could feel in the back of his head. His vision began to slowly return to him in anguishing thick haze. He could he see the bright rays of sunlight streaming down in beam through the trees, the thick smell of pine of the forest, the sound of horses tapping their hooves on the cobblestones as his senses formulate. It took but a second to realize he was going on a carriage ride what was even more shocking that this particular ride seemed to be part of some imperial legion convoy. His wrists burned raw for they were tightly bound in leather binds.

Another anomaly he noticed was this dress and personal belongings had been gone and was wearing some simple shirt and trousers made of the most unruly fabric. His weapons and coin were gone, and even… Taking his bound hands to his chest, he felt for something and realized it was bare. _"The amulet!? It's gone!"_ his mind trailed. _"Great job Rohan, first steps in Skyrim and you already lost it."_

"Hey, you." said a voice. It was the passenger across from him speaking. A blonde nord dressed in light armor and with a blue tunic, come to think of it Rohan noticed that the carriage in front of him seemed to had passengers wearing the same style of dress as the nord before him there.

"You're finally awake." Blondie continued. Rohan said nothing, his throat dry and felt sore, to much for him to speak. So he only smiled at the man and nodded his head.

"You were trying to cross the border right?" the man said. "Walked right into that ambush, same as us and that thief over there."

The nord used his head to point towards the scraggly looking fellow next to him. The lad was dressed in rags and had dirt caked on his face and ginger hair. A scowl pursed him for he seemed to not like the label on which blondie had given him. "Damn you stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine until you came along! The Empire was nice and lazy."

" _Stormcloaks!?"_ Rohan screamed inside his head, _"Well...shit, this explains everything."_ Word of the civil war had hit all corners of the Empire, it was one of the main reason why travel to Skyrim was ill advised.

"If it hadn't been for you I could've taken that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!" said the thief accusatory. "You there!" he was now speaking to Rohan. You and me, we shouldn't be here, it's these stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now _thief_!" the blonde spat back.

"Shut up back there!" said the soldier driving their carriage.

Rohan tried to move his hands but the binds grew tighter at every amount of struggle so he decided to relent. "What's wrong with him huh?" the thief spoke looking to the gagged nord on Rohan's right.

"Watch your tongue!" snapped the blonde, "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King!"

A tinge of nerves heighten in Rohan's stomach. Jarl Ulfric? That name has met infamy throughout Tamriel dependent whom to ask. To some, he's just some upstart using the political recession of the Empire to promote discord and advance his standings within the Province. To others he's a revolutionary leading Skyrim back to independence.

Both sides had merit and both sides gave Rohan the stature of staying out of it, nord or not he was not taking sides.

Strange however for the Jarl wasn't pay no attention to the thief but Rohan. He keeping his steely stare into Rohan's cold ice blue eyes. An odd feeling came to Rohan, _"Why do I feel like I should know you?"_ His mind ponders.

"Jarl Ulfric?" the thief spoke, "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you...OH GODS! Where are they taking us?!"

"I don't know…." laments the blonde, "But Sovngarde awaits."

* * *

The air felt bitter but that was expected in Skyrim's frigid climate. Still the temperature bore no comfort for what Tullius desperately desired at this moment, but showed no sign of irritability other than his usual gruff mood and kept on his horse steering the caravan with his troops at the fore.

It was a steep climb on the rocky slope of the rode but their destination was near. Good. The sooner he finishes this the better. What the General was about to do was entirely against protocol, but he was sure no one within in Imperial Court would bear any protest. He was given job with the order to: _**"Dispose the Nordic Upstart, thoroughly and if possible swiftly."**_

And that is what he's actually doing. Bypass this due process bureaucratic shit and end this blood shed now so the Empire can finally go back to healing.

Tullius saw walls and a gate ahead and with small relief was ready to get this under way. The doors berth open wide as the legionary sertries spot the military convoy with the General approaching. "General Tullius sir!" says one sentry, "The headsman is waiting!"

"Good, let's get this over with." He grumbled.

A boor sense of morbidity crept upon him, Tullius always felt uneasy with public executions, no matter the enemy. But it need to be done, and if Ulfric was to be put down, witnesses need to be presence so evidence was assured.

This display was more of a process of showing security for the people of Skyrim than it was setting an example to discourage upstarts. The Empire was in control and not a crumbling figurehead leading its citizens on a leash of falsehood that Ulfric had tried so hard to convince the locals.

Entering the hamlet's threshold. Helgen as it was called formed itself as a well fortified and well supplied legion outpost while still being a small well populated village. It's fort _Fort Helgen_ , served as the first station in Skyrim legions would attend to when coming out of Cyrodiil. It being near the southern border.

As the convoy entered, townsfolk cleared the way from the busy street as soldiers ushered them to. People all stood and ogled at the sight of the rebels being carted in like this was some festive parade. Some folk cheered at the sight "Down with the Stormcloaks!" they would shout. "Justice for Torygg!"

While other shout in protest, "Imperial dogs!" they'd yell. "Tyrants! Eleven slaves!" More than shouting ensued and the soldiers standing guard quickly tries to dispatch the rabble before a riot breaks lose.

Tullius ignores the chaos instead his attention drew to visitors he had not expected to be here, no wanted to. He steers his horse into the direction to meet with the elves of whom were watching the heavy crowd infighting.

The small group of were of Altmer, one a female adorned in black leather robes atop a golden steed, while two dressed in atypical golden eagle styled armor atop brown mares.

"Ambassador Elenwen, to what do I owe this pleasure." says Tullius addressing the elf in robes, sounding as nonchalant as possible, he liked to let the Thalmor know that he detested their presence. He was however quite nerve to see them, the damn Altmer had eyes and ears everywhere. No doubt someone within his own cohort pass some info idly down.

The high elf pursed a smile on her shrewd face, "I'm here to tell you stop. By authority of the Thalmor, I'm taking custody of these prisoners."

Tullius laughs a dry chuckle. "I'm sorry Elenwen even I know your authority has limits. I'm going to have to belay your request. By the authority of the Imperial Legion. Now I've got a horse thief and a vagabond on a cart but I doubt you want one of them."

Elenwen glared at him coldly, "Your Emperor will hear of this. By the terms of the White Gold Concordat, I operate with full imperial authority!"

"Yeah but your authority is still managed with by laws within the Imperial Court in correspondence within the Aldmeri Dominion." He turns his horse away back with of his traveling convoy

"So if you wish to complain." Tullius continued "You may put in a request with the Cyrodilic Council which would take a process within two to four weeks until you'll get a response. But, you're diplomat, you know how bureaucracy works."

"More than others!" She growled but Tullius ignores her and takes his horse trotting away, "You're making a big mistake!" the elf yelled out.

* * *

"This is Helgen." blondie spoke, turning his head to whichever direction he could, crowds of people coming from their homes, shops and wherever their place of business to gather near the roads and gawk at the parade before them. Rohan glances at the wide eyed peasants, he sees a nearby young boy being pulled from the street from his father dragging him off to their home.

"Used to be sweet on a girl from here." the blonde one continues, "I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries in it."

The nord was feeling nostalgic Rohan thought, it figures nothing but death is waiting once the carriage stops. Sentimentality has always the been the last expense of the helpless. To know and even see your death coming, it's better to feel comfort than fear. "Hey…" the nord went on, speaking to the thief. "What village are you from?"

"Why do you care!?" the thief snarled, Rohan could see the small bit of tears welling up the skinny nord's eyes. "A nords lasts thought should be of home." the nord continued.

The thief looks down letting out an anguished sigh, "Rorikstead." he finally spoke, "I'm...I'm from Rorikstead."

 _Home…._

That word ran through Rohan's mind like a terrible sickness. Home was what he longed for. He never could fit in Cyrodiil, it was never truly his home. Even with all the love and care his _parents_ gave them, the cold hard truth that never truly were his parents and it made him feel more out of place. _A bastard in a basket_. That was his childhood. Then he comes here, to Skyrim the land of his ancestors only find that he isn't welcome here either. It pained him almost, to a point that now he felt the need to cry. Yet tears did not come down no matter how hard he squinted his eyes. His throat was still to cracked to speak and paint knotted his stomach for the effort to try and cry out. So he sits in silence, his bound hands resting on his lap.

 _Perhaps once I leave this world, I'll finally have a place in wherever plain in Oblivion takes me._

* * *

Hadvar dismounts his horse as the convoy slows to a halt. Captain Tenya, the garrison's stationed commander was already having her troops aligned and barking orders. Tenya was a crass redguard woman yet a dedicated soldier. It was in those aspects on why Hadvar feared and respected her.

"Get this prisons out of the carts. Move it!" Hadvar hears the captain barks. And too much agony he spots her walking his direction, her face the most terrifying sneer. She says nothing to him only looking to the captured who were slowly moving off the carts. "Step towards the block when we call your name. **One** at a time." she says without raising her voice yet sounding strictly stern.

That was Hadvar's cue to pull out his log book and quickly recite those here on record. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." Hadvar says clearly reading off the first name. Loud murmuring from the gathered crowds bustled as he spoke. The Jarl doing as he was told walked up and then turn and walked to others where the executioner waited. The next name was bad to speak, it almost felt difficult to form the words like he was cursing his own mother. But captainTenya's eyes glared at him and he did notwant rile her patience. "Ralof ofRiverwood." he says quickly and then he saw him.

* * *

 _Two boys playing thrush of the river, it current calm enough for them to dip their hands in and collect smooth stones. Hadvar finds a rock that looks be of malachite. He raises it in the sunlight and watches it shine a bright teal. "Look there!" Ralof says pointing to the mountain. An old ruin could be seen on the mountain's cliffside._

" _You mean the barrow?" Hadvar asks examining the stone._

" _Bleak Falls Barrow." Ralof says, "My grandda says there's an old treasure there, Power like you've never seen before!, he says. But if you seek the treasure and found unworthy, than death awaits." Ralof continued. Hadvar shakes his head, "Nothing but our buried dead there as are all the tombs in Skyrim. Any fool goes seeking for treasure will only death as punishment in disturbing our ancestors."_

" _What you mean draugr? Those who walk sleepless?" Ralof asks. Hadvar nods._

" _I not scared of bonewalkers?" Ralof boasted. "Fact when I'm older I'm gonna take my trade as a warrior."_

" _Same here, I'm joining the legion." said Hadvar._

 _Ralof laughed, "The Emperor's army? They're one of the best fighting forces in Tamriel! Only bravest and strongest join the legion."_

 _Hadvar rose his feet grinning, "I'm brave and strong." Ralof rolled his eyes yet Hadvar pins his finger in his chest, "And I'll be one of the fiercest warrior than you'll ever be." He says grinning._

" _Suuure." Ralof teased, "But sees who would be the fastest, race ya to the mill!" He says darting off before Hadvar could react. Hadvar chases after him "Hey!" he giggled._

* * *

Not a word, not even a glance. The rebel did as he told was before, step forward and walked on to join his doomed comrades. Hadvar was compelled to speak but his thoughts blocked him from even forming words. _What could you say? What is there to say?_

It was time to forget the past and move on to the next condemned soul. "Lokir of Rorikstead!" he called out.

"No!" a feral looking man calls out. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

Hadvar rolled his eyes, the idiot didn't really believe they were keeping him here because they _thought he was a rebel_...did he?

"Stealing property from the legion can get you to the axe, _thief_." Hadvar said, aptly reminding the fool on why he was really here.

The thief says nothing at first, his pleas cut short then his eyes dart to an opening on where space between him, Hadvar and the captain were far apart enough for him to swiftly get by. Hadvar caught his gaze and gave him a stern look. _Don't even try it._

The thief darts off, "You're not gonna catch me!" Hadvar shakes his head. "Idiot."

"Halt!" Captain Tenya barked. The thief was fast, fast enough for it took the legion guard half a minute to react. "Archers!" Tenya called out, four imperial _sagittarii_ quickly line each have an arrow notched. They waited for the thief to scramble past two incoming guardsmen pursuing the man. Just as he runs into their lines of sight, they each in unison lose their arrows. Each making their shot. "GAH!" was all the thief could croak out as he fell to the dirt, arrows hitting him, three in the chest one in the neck.

"Anyone else feels like running?" Tenya cordially asks. Hadvar just shakes his head, the thief was fast but not fast enough, it didn't matter really he was dead now and now it was time for the next poor soul called for the slaughter. But checking on his list, Hadvar had found all the names logged were already checked off, yet there was still someone standing there, waiting patiently. Peculiar, if not very strange.

A nord, brawny fellow with dark hair and piercing blue eyes for what Hadvar could take it. "You!" he called out to him, "Step forth." The nord did as he was told and walked to him, eyes baring into him as he if he could see Hadvar's soul. It was eerie almost but Hadvar showed no imposture. "Who are you?" was all he asked.

The man smiled and menacing sneer and spoke, "Ysgramor!" he beamed.

Hadvar let out a disgruntled huff. _A comedian, great._ "And where from, _Ysgramor_?" he says playing along with this stupid game.

"Your ma's bed…" The nord taunts. That earned him a sharp punch in the gut by the captain. As big as he was, Tenya's blow was heavy enough for him to keel over into a bend, Tenya then sending him down to the ground by putting her boot on the side his face, pressing his head down into the mud. "You got jokes well we got jokes too!" she sneered, "Tell us your name or we strip you down, flog you and give you something worse than the axe!"

Mud had covered most of his face then with dirt falling into his mouth but he still managed to not break his smile, "Is….this….the….part...of the joke….where….I'm suppose to laugh?" He grumbles out.

Tenya pushed down hard, "NAME!" she growled.

"ROHAN!" he barked back.

"Place of origin?" said Hadvar logging the name on a clean page.

"I DON'T HAVE A HOME!" he roared from the dirt in his mouth. Tenya eased her foot off him, giving him the chance to rise to his feet. "I don't have any origin." the man continued now gasping, "Just a parentless bastard who was just unlucky enough to run into you lot. I'm a nord like the rest of these doomed sods here." he gestures to the rebels. "This is Skyrim ain't it? The Fatherland? What does it matter on where exactly I hail from."

It really did not to what Hadvar took it and thus wrote nothing further. "You picked a bad time to come to Skyrim kinsmen." he says, the sorrow sounding quite genuine. "Captain." Hadvar continued, "What do we do, he's not on the list?"

Tenya studied the man, her cold stare fixated on his but she then cuts away in a snort and spoke, "Forget the list, he goes to the block."

A tinge of nerves could be felt in Hadvar's chest and he was compelled to speak in protest. This was not protocol, under no circumstance did they truly had any right to have him in custody. Since when was bad timing an official charge? But Tenya had the stature of a bulwark that was too hard as stone to relent any resistance. And riling her up was something Hadvar did not want to do. So like a good soldier, Hadvar swallowed his irritation and did as commanded. "By your orders captain." he spoke.

"So that's it then?" the now condemned nord spoke, "No charge, no trial, no judge? Just the axe? Legion's a lot different in Skyrim than Cyrodiil." he laughed.

"I'm sorry." Hadvar said somberly, "At least you'll die here, in your homeland." like any of that helped. Any civilian could see this as plain murder but under the legion, just under the table protocol. "To the block prisoner."

* * *

Ralof watched as the bitch of a captain pushes another condemned soul with his group. It was poor fellow who rode with him and Ulfric, Rohan was the name Ralof caught when he spoke it earlier. Damn shame really, unlike the thief who beg for Ralof to testify his _innocence_ this man here truly had no association with them and thus there is never a clear reason why he was here in the first place. From what he had overheard Hadvar saying, the poor bastard's only crime was being in the way. Saying anything would prove nothing, the imperials already cast their judgement. To Ralof, it almost seemed as if imperials enjoyed having their boots on a nord's neck.

Ralof spat at the ground as the imperial captain passed by him, pushing the rugged nord to stand next to him. "Sorry friend." Ralof said to him softly, it seem quite obligated for him to say something to him. In a way Ralof felt that this was his and comrade's fault. The man said nothing, only breathing heavy, his piercing blue eyes glaring through the dirt on his face right at the captain.

Both of them then turn their attention onto the approaching General Tullius, who strutted right past them on to Ulfric, who stood upright in a clear direct posture, wrists still bound and mouth still gagged.

"Ulfric Stormcloak." the General greeted, "Some here in Helgen call you a hero." His hand reaches out gesturing to the gathered crowd of peasants who were all looking on in dread silence. "But a _hero_ doesn't use the power such as the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

A harsh scowl morphed onto Ulfric's face and his jaws clench indicating the desire to speak but the gag was an obstacle, all that could be translated were muffled grunts.

"You started this war!" Tullius barked. "Plunge Skyrim right into chaos and so the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

A more angrier look came from Ulfric's gaze and he slightly steps forward showing signs of his rebuttal when a sudden wail echoes from the sky. The sound was something unheard of and almost unnatural that by the second everyone had heard it, their gazes looked upwards onto where it supposedly came from. Murmurs from the local folk all sounding bewildered.

"What was that?" Hadvar spoke.

"It's nothing." said General passing it off, "Carry on."

Ralof had his gaze still to the sky, a look of confusion as well but what was more peculiar was when he then noticed Rohan next to him. His bright blue eyes were wide as he staring blankly towards the ground. He almost looked as if he was trembling. Strange it seemed, he didn't seem so fearful before but now he had looked to turn pale, even pale for a nord. "What is it?" Ralof whispered.

"Something's coming." he whispered back. "I...I can feel it somehow."

That caused Ralof to stir a bit but instead he looked back out the bright partly cloudy sky, trying to see if he could see what Rohan was sensing.

"Give them their last rites." the captain commanded speaking to the priest.

The affirmed chaplin was called out earlier by the legion's behest, as she was to perform the rite for the condemn as per protocol in any execution. The young woman in her robes step forward smiling with her hands out in a wide berth as if speaking to the sun as she began her sermon. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn. Our beloved…."

"FOR THE LOVE OF TALOS SHUT UP AND LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH!" barked a stormcloak soldier who already strutted his way out right at the block.

"As you wish!" the priestess seethed.

The rebel got to his knees and stretched his head over the block with no assist. "Come on, I haven't got all day!" he taunted. The headsman, a buff nord wearing a black cowl carrying a very blunt greataxe step forward, raising his blade of his head.

"My ancestors are smiling at me imperials! Can you say the same?" the rebel's lasts words before the axe slammed down on his neck. Screams and yelps of disgust and displeasure echoed all around from the crowd. "You imperial bastards!" shouted one of the stormcloaks as they all looked on watched as the captain kicked the rebel's headless body off the block, his head now easily rolled into a basket.

"Justice!" shouted someone from the peasant crowd, along with some cheers from others. "Death to the stormcloaks!" said another.

"As fearless as he is in death as he was in life." lamented Ralof reciting an old nord proverb watching two soldiers come and take the body.

"Next the nord in the rags!" barked the captain, she pointing at Rohan.

A second wail this time much louder than before echoes out. The pupils in Rohan's eyes shrank, as his heart started to race even faster. "Something's coming…" He says "Something's coming right towards us!"

"To the block prisoner." said Hadvar, "Nice and easy."

Face still blank with a wide stare, Rohan did what he was told and slowly stepped forward, his mind racing _something's coming….something's coming._

It was as if the sound around him drowned out and all he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating along with another sound.

 _Something's coming….something's coming._

Like wings thrashing against the air.

 _Something's...coming….something's coming._

Stopping at the block, he could sense a great source energy rushing towards him.

 _Something's coming….something's coming._

He gets to his knees.

 _Something's coming...something's coming._

The air feels as if it is still but he could still feel a gasp of power thrashing at him. Power that his body feels as if it knows it yet does not at the same time. Something he does recognize yet feels as if he should.

 _Something's coming...something's coming._

He bends over the block, neck stretched out so that his head was hanging over. His eyes fixated on the axeman who as before began to slowly raise his blade.

 _Something's coming….something's coming…something's coming…..something's coming…_

"IT"S HERE!" Rohan screams and just as he said that wail echoed out but it was more of a roar and this time the people of Helgen could see on whom the noise came from.

Tullius first caught a glimpse, to him it was like a large winged demon. "WHAT IN OBLIVION IS THAT?!" the general hollered. It casted a great shadow over the village, swooping low.

"Sentries!" called the captain, "What do you see!?" she says hastily.

"IT"S IN THE CLOUDS!" says one legion scout.

Rohan who was still bended over the headsman block watched in stunned terror of the great beast that landed on top of the stone tower before him. Screams and hollers of the peseant folk bellow out as the townspeople scramble. Legion guards all drawing steel and bow.

Rohan did not move, his eyes still caught on the sight of such a terrifying yet marvelous creature. It's scales were of rough pointed spikes blacker than a night sky, its eyes a firey red that glowed. _What….what is!?_ Great wide wings, sharp tale, a snout lined with fangs.

 _Is….is that a…._

"DRAGON!"


	4. Unbound, Unburnt, Unbroken-II

_The sweet summer sun flows in the natural light through the open windows of the villa. A soft breeze, chill yet comfortable following in. Rohan lays on a day bed in white soft linen clothes, his chest open from the shirt. His eyes close as he was in a blissful nap. Striding over was a sensual curvaceous woman. Fair-tanned skin, platinum blonde hair silking down, bright grey eyes with soft pink lip, her clothes were...designed to cover what needed to be covered yet still show a lot. She stands over him smiling a charming smile, sitting on the bed she brushes back his hair and proceed to kiss one closed eye and then the other lastly placing a soft peck on his lips. He opens his eyes smiling, her beauty radiant in all its glory._

" _Are you a goddess?" says Rohan. "Are...are you Dibella?"_

 _Her smile grows wider, she shifts herself by putting her leg over him so that she was straddling atop him. She leans in and whispers closely in his ear "I am who ever you want me to be my love." She begins to softly kiss down his neck to his chest further opening his shirt. Rohan lets out a satisfied sigh and takes hold of her firm buttocks letting her lips touch were ever part of his body she chooses._

 _This is where he belonged, this is "home". A peaceful house with a beautiful companion to share it with._

 _She lets out a blissful moan as her lower body begins to rock in a circular rhythm. "Is this is what you want?" she says gasping._

 _Rohan rolled his eyes back and and smiled, "Yes"_

" _This is what I want too….You need to get up."_

" _Oh it's up, believe me."_

" _Get up….get up…."_

* * *

"GET UP!" shouted Ralof.

Rohan's eyes finally popped open, finding an soot covered nord shaking him awake. He was laying atop a mound hay possibly from a star built house for there was burned wood along with it.

His wrists still bound and he was covered in a dirty mix of soot and blood, the blood coming from cuts on the side of his face. His body ached from when he crashed and it was then that Rohan realised he had been unconscious for a short moment.

The air was hot like fire and sky a black grey storm looming above. The roars of the winged beast still howled throughout town over taking the continuous echoing of screams of villagers fleeing. Ralof pulled Rohan to his feet.

"Come on!" he says, "The gods won't give us another chance!"

He dragged Rohan along etching him to keep up as they both made a run to standing stone-built tower. A stormcloak was standing in the threshold of the door, waving his hands for them to make their way to the tower quick.

Rohan looked to the sky and spots the drake swooping low near the front of the village at the square, the legion garrison were trying effortlessly to put up a defence but it seemed futile. The dragon gaped its maw and a flow of fire streamed out as the beast dipped low burning whatever poor soul was in it's path. He saw fly upwards banking a hard left going to their direction. "He's coming round!" Rohan said. That gave both him and Ralof a second wind of haste as they bolted to the door making in it in the knick of time for the dragon swooped down low once more taking an unlucky legion archer in its dark talons just behind them.

The door swung shut and Rohan stumbled to the floor as he broke from speed. It seemed that the surviving rebels even the Jarl, had managed to all gather here, some were on the floor bloodied and injured while those who were able stood by to do whatever aid they could for them.

"Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof called out, "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

Ulfric peered through the small opening of a window and sees the carnage outside, "Legends don't burn down villages."

Rohan was still short of breath. He sat on the ground, back against a wall and watches how the rebels cared for their injured comrades, some using whatever cloth or linen to staunch excessive bleeding, others using a shared bottle of water to clean open wounds. Then there was another spectacle, Rohan sat by and watched. A rebel, face swollen and blood all over looked beyond any saving and his shield-sister next to him knew this. In her hands weren't bandages or water but a small iron dagger. She had it pointing downward at his chest towards his heart. A small tear comes rolling down her cheek but the man broken face and all still managed to form a smile. "Go to Sovngarde brother." she whimpers out.

The rebel says nothing and smiles giving her the _okay_ to go through with it. The knife struck down peircing his light armor. He let's out a short croak, blood spewing from his mouth choking. She then twists the dagger thus making him go still.

"Can I use that?" Rohan asked as the stormcloak wiped the blood from her blade with her sleeve. She looks at him and says nothing only handing the dagger to him as requested. "Gratitude." he says bowing his head.

Taking the knife in his right hand and caps at the leather binds with a quick cut, gets to his feet and hands the dagger back to her, walking off without ceremony. The tower violently rattled for dragon was still circling around outside.

"We need to move, now!" said Ulfric.

"Where?!" Rohan said.

Ralof was at the foot of the winding staircase pointing, "Up the stairs! Quickly!"

Rohan followed Ralof as before but then they were both admissible stopped when at an obstruction of collapsed roof was keeping them from furthering their path. A young rebel was already at the mass of stones moving them for an opening. "We just need to move some of these rocks…."

 _BOOM!_

As if the wall to their right had exploded, "GET BACK!" Ralof yelled grabbing Rohan down a few stairs with him. It was just in good timing when they moved from blown wall where the dragon poked its ugly head through and breathed inferno out. The blown from the wall killed the stormcloak instant and his corpse wrenched into char from the drake's breath.

The dragon took off giving both Ralof and Rohan the chance move up again. Though path going up was still blocked a fortunate new opening came from the blown opening the dragon had left. There Rohan caught the vista of the chaos this demonic beast had wrought.

Helgen once small hamlet in the mountains now a pool of fire and death. It was still difficult to take in. _Was this really happening? Is this really happening!?_

"Look there." Ralof pointed downward to a barely standing house, there was a agaped caval on its roof close enough to jump through and break a fall. "Think you can make it?"

Rohan nods, "It's all we got, you?"

"I'll have stay back a bit. Help the others." says Ralof looking back down the stairs to where his comrades were. "You get a head start, I'll catch up later."

Rohan was a bit hesitant he was sure to that he could make the jump but he was not keen on leaving Ralof behind.

"GO!" Ralof shouted, "I'll be fine."

"See you soon." Rohan said

Ralof smiled, "Talos guide you." He then darts back down stairs.

Looking below, registering the steepness from the jump, Rohan took a deep breath and leapt forward keepings his legs stretched out for a direct landing.

The jump/fall was everything but graceful, aiming for the burned hole in the roof, Rohan made it in barely. He had still hit some straw from the roof and the crash was intense. But he made it and was alive, _barely._

Pain shot through his legs for they had absorbed most of the impact but luckily were not fractured. Rohan agonisingly got back on his feet and he had to make it out quick for it was still a home that was in the process of burning down.

Coughing from the smoke, Rohan had managed to crawl down the first level of the home and out an opening to a wall, where there he saw an old man, wrinkled fellow covered in black ash trembling and trying to stay out of sight. Accompanying him was a legion soldier both were trying to stay from the main road for dragon was keeping its path in that compass.

Rohan recognize the soldier, the nord from before. He was standing near the road calling out to a boy who stray ahead and out in the open. The poor lad was presiding over to what looks to be his father who was too injured to move.

"Hamming!" He heard Hadvar call out to him. "You need to get off the road!"

"GET OFF THE ROAD BOY!" the old man yelled.

The boy looked on to the soldier and elder calling to him, his face matted in tears and dirt, but he looks back to his father who was holding in whatever was coming out of his stomach, blood most of it. "Pa….I can't…." the boy whimpered.

" _Go….little….cub…"_ His father murmured, _"You'll do me proud…Go."_

The child slowly gets to his feet taking a step back but not truly committed to leave his father's side.

The startling inspiration the finally came for the dragon slammed into a landing not but a few feet away from him. A fear struck the boy almost immediately as he too paralyze to move quick enough for the fire come roaring from the dragon's mouth. He turns to run knowing the back of his mind that it was too late for him and his father when suddenly someone had grabbed him, sweeping him off his feet carrying him and running to where the old man and Havar were.

He didn't knew who this stranger was but he looked over his shoulder and saw the fire pour out near them burning his father instantly.

Rohan dropped the child into the old man's arms. "Thank you." Hadvar said. "Strange to see you still alive prisoner."

"I'm trying to find my way out of here." Rohan said, he was short of breath.

"Stick close and I can take you." said Hadvar, he then turned to the old man who was consoling the now crying child. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find Tullius and join the defence."

The old man, Gunnar nodded his head, "Gods guide you Hadvar."

The majority of Tullius's unit where at the front gates, there and few groups of volunteers were all trying whatever arsenal they could to drive the dragon back but every action seemed frivolous.

The General ordered every battlemage they had to the front, using their magic to shoot the dragon down. Fireballs were hurling at it as fireballs rained down. Every soldier they had a bow was aiming up all flying at one target but to avail. "Wings!" Tullius commanded, "Aimed for its wings!" While an defence was in place, surviving civilians were told to head to the legion garrison fort keep, for shelter though the call was out mostly everyone was for themselves.

Rohan was now following Hadvar through a now desolate part of town, nothing frames of burned homes and burnt corpses was all they saw. Curring through a narrow path between a home and wall, Rohan spotted the dragon as it stealthy flew overhead. "Quick! Get down!" Rohan grabbed Hadvar by the collar of his light armor and flew him to the wall with him. A half a second later, the dragon perched itself overhead and burned a few unlucky soldiers nearby along with a small group of civilians whom the soldiers were escorting.

Rohan closed his eyes at the horrid sight, hearing their howls of terror chilled him to the bone yet the flow of the heat from the dragon's fire breath seethed at his face.

"Gods!" Hadvar cursed as the dragon then flew off. Happy that the dragon did not spot them below. "Let's keep moving and stick close to the walls."

* * *

Tullius was cups full in task foreboding in the current situation. From coordinating the evacuations of the townsfolk to rallying defenses. But at the rate this dragon was going, it was starting to become less villagers to save and less soldiers to muster.

Casualties were mounting faster than he could count, and the general didn't need to read the report some praetor gathered on Helgen's losses, all he had to do was look at the bodies strung around him. Death and chaos, there was no sleepy hamlet before him anymore.

He stood frozen, his armor matted in blood and soot, sword still clenched tight in his hand yet he did not stir. Only keeping his eyes to the sky, following the black scaled drake as flew above clawing and burning those closest to it.

 _What….what is happening?_ Tullius's mind shuttered. _You were never trained for this...you still cannot gather the intensity of this situation because you still cannot believe that is truly happening._

Screams of townspeople were hollow around him, soldiers scrambling to any vantage they could find. His senses dulled almost to a point where time was moving slow around him, the only conscious thing was his thoughts.

 _Is this punishment for the choice I made? Are the gods striking down at me for choosing to end this war here and not at an imperial court!? ARE THE DIVINES PUNISHING ME!?_

His fear was hollow but it slowly morphed into anger and determination. _NO! Dragon or not I will not falter no more dying in a futile battle, no more of men shall fall to this winged demon._

A soldier bloodied from battle but still able to move runs to the general who was still standing still with a hard scowl on his face. "General Tullius sir!" the soldier called out, snapping Tullius from his trance, "What are your orders? Must we continue with the primary attack or change strategy!?"

Tullius was silent for a moment.

"General?"

"No." Tullius finally spoke, "We cannot defeat this beast, sound the retreat."

The soldier said nothing, his face showing disbelief.

"What are you waiting for!?" Tullius snapped, "Get everyone into the keep! HELGEN IS LOST!"

"Y-yes sir!"

"Sound the horn!" Tullius, "Full retreat, everyone in the keep!"

* * *

Hadvar and Rohan finally made it from adverting through alleyways to the main front when they heard horns siren off. "What's that?" Rohan asked.

"Tullius called the retreat, it means anyone who can make to the main barracks thus need to now." said Hadvar.

Rohan snorted, "General finally got through his thick head no one can't kill the damn thing."

"I don't think he was planning on defeating it."

Suddenly their attention caught to the sky when they both spot the dragon swooping out of the dark gray clouds and flying down.

"RUN!" Rohan screamed.

"THIS WAY!" Hadvar yelled.

Rohan sprinted as fast he could while trying to keep with Hadvar's suggestion. He could the carnage happening behind him as the dragon attacked a small group of soldiers, somewhere trying to flee while others try to muster a defense both fruitless.

Hadvar could see they were getting close to the main keep's entrance when he spots someone running out of the smoke from a burned home heading in their direction.

His eyes went wide then both it and his mouth snarled into a scowl as he stopped in his tracks, his sword drawn. "RALOF!" he growled. Ralof stood but a few feet away from, panting for breath yet still an axe in his hand. Rohan caught up with Hadvar a smile a relief to find Ralof still alive and unharmed...barely.

"You damn traitor!" Hadvar continued, "Out of our way!"

"We're escaping Hadvar!" Ralof said, "You're not stopping us this time!"

A tinge of fear and concern shrouded Rohan like a blanket, he looked to sky, while those two bicker and rival, his concern was a valid fear. For in a split second Rohan spots the dragon swoop down towards him and in a slam lands right in between him, Hadvar and Ralof.

The landing knocked all three nords off their feet and once the gust of dirt cleared, Rohan was struck frozen in terror as the dragon was standing before him. The hot steam of breath flaring from its snout brushed upon Rohan's face and those terrible red glowing eyes stared directly at him as if the dragon was bearing down his soul.

It's head cocked as it eerily stared down at him. "Mah deh sos tin dov!" It growled. Rohan was paralyzed in disbelief, was this thing talking to him?

"PAH!" the dragon. "Mah deh joore! Av dilon!"

The dragon cocked its head back where a bright hot fume began to seethe in the drake's throat. It was ready to let out its fire. In a sudden burst of hot confidence and fear, Rohan quickly scrambled to his feet making a run to the nearest door.

The flames roar, chasing him in hot fury but Rohan made into the stone made keep in time, where someone was already at the door open for him and waiting to then quickly shut it in time.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _I know a little long updated so I decided to do a double chapter._

Dragon translation: Mah deh sos: "I sense blood." Tin dov: Of dragon. "I sense the blood of a dragon." Mah deh joore: "I see mortal" or "I see you mortal." Av dilon: "Join dead!" or "Join the dead!"


	5. Unbound, Unburnt, Unbroken-III

It was only noon yet it felt like an eternity when Rohan finally made it out of Helgen. The sun sent sharp beams of light through the thick of the pine and the birds still chirp their song amidst the summer breeze yet it felt like ages that Rohan had felt peace. _Was this still the same day?_ He wondered.

He sat near the brush of a rushing river. His face caked in dirt and clothes ratted and dirty than they were before. Burns had patched on parts of his exposed arms and some other parts of his body, and he endured injury such as a sprain in his knee and arms, and his left hand was starting to swell and throb. Damn shame given that was the hand he prefered to hold a sword.

Rohan did not stir, he only kept staring at his reflection in river his face unmoved yet eyes still showing signs of the shock and fear. It was a miracle he made out of the chaos surely. Into Helgen's main imperial fort where he found some well fitted boots and a steel sword. As much as it was a fight outside with a dragon, it was even more of a fight escaping. Rouge rebels and soldiers all scrapping at anyone who was in his way. Luckily he made it out of the keep, from the lowers ends of the imperial dungeon that lead to a cave outside of Helgen. With the help of his guide of course.

Hadvar finished relieving himself at a tree before getting himself together to wash his hands and face at the river stream. He sees Rohan sitting near the river at the trunk of a tree, still moving or saying anything. "Closes town from here is Riverwood." said Hadvar dousing his face with water. "My uncle's the blacksmith there, he can help us out."

Silence was all Rohan gave. Hadvar could still sense the trauma coming off him, he knows sure he was still feeling the shock. All his comrades either dead or missing, and General Tullius was M.I.A. as was Ulfric, if the bastard made it out or not. Hadvar knew with either of the war's commanding belligerents whereabouts unknown the war was going to take a steep turn for the worse and then there's this damn dragon. Just one giant fucking shitstorm and it was still day time.

Hadvar sighed taking a seat next to Rohan, "Listen." he spoke somberly, "I wouldn't made it out of Helgen without your help."

Rohan was still silent for a minute his eyes staring off into the water, only letting the rushing sound of river keeping to the pace of the eerie quietness. He finally spoke, "Did that just really happened?" Hadvar set the back of his head against the tree, "I still can't believe myself."

Quiet again.

"I have something for you." spoke Hadvar breaking the silence. Rohan turned his head to look to him and watched as Hadvar reached into a small pouch pocket in the back of broken light armor. He pulls out a small obsidian made pendant tied to twine forming a necklace and handed it to him. "I was give this to your kin, if the worse was sentenced to you. I was hoping they'd let you go and figured this was a misunderstanding but you know how that went down…"

Rohan almost couldn't believe the soldier had kept it, he was elated of course. This only he had of Skyrim when he was a boy. He thought the worse that the imperials had trashed it or use this as evidence that he was some stormcloak sympathizer. He wanted to say thank you yet all he did was snatched from Hadvar's hand and placed it around his neck. "I have no kin." was all he said.

Hadvar looked to him with sorrow, he almost felt hurt on how tragic this man seemed."I'm sorry." he said.

Rohan was back staring off into the distance, "You have nothing to be sorry for. And...thank you."

That made Hadvar smile a little but his smile quickly vanishes as he heard stirring in the thrushes of bush a short distance behind him. That made him get to his feet as did Rohan.

"A bear?" Rohan whispered, "Wolves even?"

Hadvar crouched into a stance drawing his sword as his eyes caught the shape of something moving away from them as if in a walk. Rohan caught sight too, squinting eyes for a better vantage when he saw that it was no wild animal but a person.

Average height, firm build and blonde hair, Rohan recognized him immediately. "Ralof!" he shouted.

Ralof stopped in his tracks and turned to see Rohan jogging towards him. "Ha!" he says forming a smile. "You're alive!"

Rohan clasp Ralof's forearm as did Ralof into a shake. "Guess I'm one lucky bastard or most unlucky eh?" said Rohan, they both began to laugh but their laughter was cut short at the sound of a sword unsheathed with Hadvar holding it trained on Ralof as he step towards them.

"Step away from this rebel Rohan." Hadvar said solemnly. Rohan did not budge, only standing in between Ralof and Hadvar's weapon. "Put that away Hadvar, now's not the time!"

Hadvar raised an eyebrow, "Are you sympathizing with him?"

"Milk Drinker." Ralof muttered. He quickly draws his axe and nudge Rohan from his way. "Give me your best strike boot licker!" He snarled.

Hadvar kept his stern glare upon Ralof, "You first you kingslayer lover….."

"RALOF! HADVAR! DAGON'S COCK WILL THE TWO OF YOU CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" Rohan hollered, it was so loud that it stirred the birds perched in the tree overhead of them. His demand was so startling intense that both warrior eased their weapons, slowly lowering them yet still have their cold stares trained on one another.

"Don't you two realize what's happened!? A dragon has appeared in all the ages past to now! Did you not witness the death wrought in front of us did you not see how it devoured and burned from every villager it crossed paths with to even your comrades!" Rohan continued. "Do any of you know what it means!?"

Both Ralof and Hadvar's gaze lowered now they looked to the ground, deep in thought with a paint of shame and despair upon their faces.

"It means this is bigger than this petty political infighting!" Rohan finished, "Who the fuck cares who gets to be High King! Skyrim is fucking doomed! Fuck even Tamriel!"

A silence draws in for the moment, only the sound of birds and the rushing river flow echoes out. "You're right." Ralof finally speaks, somberly. "What we saw…..it's bigger than life itself. So right now I just want to get home to my sister.

"You're welcome to tag along of course." He says looking to Rohan. "But if you don't mind, I'll be keep one eye open at all times." He said that looking Hadvar his eyes in a serious glare. Hadvar only glared back giving off that he was to do the same.

"We'll go to Riverwood." Rohan said, "Together."

The three nords set off down the road, Rohan making sure to stay between the two and keeping the conversating to a minimum.

* * *

Deep in forest of Falkreath Hold, a dense encampment of legionary soldiers and small huddles of peasant folk settled themselves in makeshift shelters and small fires. All looked tattered, most covered in black soot, mud, and blood all looking ragged and broken. Able bodies attempt to tend to the injured but only few were to survive most were set to not make it by the end of the day. General Tullius was resting on a hillside, his broken armor stripped to the waist while a soldier tries to tend a wound on Tullius's shoulder while the general sat watching wethered soldiers try to help with what they can and cries from men, women and children. Some looked were scattering about in the hopes of looking for loved ones while other howl in despair as they find their loved ones had already died were set to die by sundown due to wounds sustained.

 _What madness is this…._ His mind dragged on. Tullius had seen the aftermath of battle before, raw atmosphere bleak with despair and lost. It showed on the villager's faces, it showed on his men. How many lives were lost? He looked to his troops and saw this was not his full contingent, not even close to half. As a General in the Imperial Legion he should be mentally ready for this aftermath. During the Great War, when Tullius received his first officer's commission he would see the burned towns and hamlets with broken villagers fleeing in terror. He would witness the loss and mourn in silence. But this was different beyond his realm of understanding.

 _A dragon?! ….Here…..Now!?_ His mind screamed. _Why of all places….why at that very moment…_

"General!" two scouts comes riding in on the few horses the soldiers managed to recover. Tullius did not stir from his seat only waiting for their approach. "Did you find anything, any signs of others?"

One scout spoke first, "No sir, the forest is thick its easy for people to disappear in these woods." Tullius turned his head to face the lad, his glare hard and heavy and unamused from the pathetic excuse the scout was giving him. The scout was almost struck in fear at the general's gaze so he hurried to finish speaking. "But...but we did find something you should take a look at." He takes a small piece of parchment from the other scout to give to the general.

The note was on a ragged piece of straw paper written in faded ink yet was still legible. It read: _**"Better luck next time"**_

It had no name onto whom it was from but Tullius was aware of the sender as he crumpled the note in his hand, swearing the gnarliest of profanities.

"What do we do now sir?" asked a soldier.

Tullius was short on breath from his outburst yet still managed to speak, "We...get these folk to Falkreath. Then continue to Markarth where we will then march on back to post at Solitude."

"We've still got men missing sir!" another soldier protested. Tullius only glared at him, "If they're missing they're dead."

The sound of horses neighing in distance cause the general and his man to look onto the direction where an altmer women and a small contingent of elven soldiers came approaching on horseback.

"Great, this is what I need." Tullius mumbled stepping out from his group to meet Elenwen. "General Tullius." beamed the thalmor women in her ever so irritating haughty tone. "My, you look worse for wear, even for your kind." she said stopping her horse.

"I've had worse days." Tullius replied passively. _Funny how they suddenly arrive._ Tullius pondered. _They left shortly before the dragon attacked...did they have something to do with it._

Elenwen kept gold icy stare into Tullius with her eerie sneer, "Quite." she speaks. "I had heard there was sort of attack happening at your outpost in Helgen while I was in Falkreath."

"You were in Falkreath? What for?" Tullius cutted in.

"Speaking with at the imperial station there, _filing a complaint_." she said with an ever so sneering smile. Tullius let out a small but hot huff from his nose, the expression itself pleased the eleven woman. "I had brought troops to see if you are in need of assistance." she continued, "Believing that dreadful Ulfric Stormcloak had sprung a trap for you ilk managing a counter offensive."

Tullius was silence as were the other imperial soldiers. Elenwen caught that, "Where is the rebel may I ask?"

Tullius still silent trying to find words, "He's…" he began, "I do not know."

"He's escaped, isn't he?" Elenwen cutted in.

The silence from the general made Elenwen laughed as if she was in pure satisfaction. Her laughter even cause some her troops to chuckle as well. Hatred bored into Tullius's gut he hated the sight of these damn high elven bastards getting happy off his expense. The expense of himself _and_ his men. "We don't know if he's even alive." said Tullius trying to deter the topic.

"Oh he's alive, I'm sure." said Elenwen, "That of course could've been avoided but you humans are oh so difficult." She says somberly.

Tullius took one step forward, hands gnarled into a fist, "He is an enemy to the Empire not a fugitive to the Aldmeri Dominion!"

"He is an enemy to the peace! General." Elenwen spat back. "I'm starting to think you don't fully comprehend the matter of danger Ulfric Stormcloak is."

"He became less of danger after today." Tullius his eyes to the ground. Elenwen perked an eyebrow at the general's words. "What are you saying?" she asked.

Tullius rose his head to glare back at her. "You came here from Falkreath thinking it was the rebels springing a rescue? No. It was dragon that attacked."

A distraught look of bewilderment pursed Elenwen's face, "Don't be ridiculous!" she said. "Dragon haven't been around since the past age! Longer than that even!"

She looked genuinely confused, Tullius caught, maybe these elves truly did not have nothing to do with it but it was possibility he wasn't yet going to rule out. "Oh it's true. Looked to the peasants there." Tullius pointed to broken villagers that huddled close to themselves, "Could

rebels truly did the horror that's painted their faces!?" This time Elenwen was lost words.

"I know what I saw." Tullius said.

"This is a matter for a thorough investigation, but I'll keep my implications and _opinions_ to myself." She the latter she stated was something Tullius agreed on. "What's next for you general?"

"I am to take these folk to safety then I'll gather the rest of men and we'll head for Solitude."

"I shall join you of course, you'll need all the support you can get as it seems the like."

Tullius had no energy to protest even if he wanted, he said nothing to Elenwen and got on one of the surviving horses, giving orders to his men to get the villagers moving before sundown sets in.

* * *

Far off on a cliffside overlooking the imperial army, Thalmor and Helgen survivors was a girl. A nord child who lived with her father in a hunting hut nearby deep in the woods. She looked on hidden from sight but close enough to hear the conversation. Realizing there was no more she could gather from them as they were about to leave, the girl herself gets up to leave. Scurrying away deep in the forest.

She knew the path to take, over a small creek pass the den where a saber lived on to which she was quick enough for the cat to even notice. Her direction was swift and concrete that coming years of training and living in the woods.

She finally stops coming to an open cave. A bear lived there once but her father had caught, killed and it now lived in her and her father's hut hanging as a pelt. Now it was occupied by something else. Something else to whom they were keeping a small fire to.

Ulfric sat at the fire his eyes staring deep into the flames. The blaze reminding him of the homes and charred bodies that were dancing upon. The bodies of the villagers, the bodies of his comrades. The few surviving stormcloaks were all here with him exhausted and some already on the cave floor sleeping. One stormcloak picking at a wound that was wrapped in makeshift bandages. "Don't mess with it." Ulfric said, "When we get to Windhelm we'll have someone look at it."

Ulfric then spots the girl enter the cave and approach him, he seemed happy for hope of news. "Well?" he asked.

"They found your note but the general won't go after you." she says, "He's taking them villagers to Falkreath with some elves then he said he's going to Solitude."

"Looking after the simple folk." Ulfric said, "Tullius surprises me everyday. You said elves were with him?"

The nods her head, "Mmmhmm. Many of them was wearing that gold armor and one was dressed in all black."

"Thalmor." said one stormcloak.

"Good, then that means they off our trail and we can make break for Windhelm." said Ulfric getting to his feet.

"You sure we can evade them?" said another stormcloak.

"We know this land they do not, and it's not the Thalmor or the imperials I'm concerned for finding me out here in the open." he said, his mind still on the dragon.

"What do you mean?" asked the little girl. Ulfric looked to her, "Tell your father to get you behind some city walls. Skyrim's countryside isn't safe."

The girl nods. "I will, my father still won't believe I've met Ulfric Stormcloak and that I'm helping you." she says, "He said you're going to bring the old ways back to Skyrim, the way nords should live."

Ulfric smiles, "Talos willing." he says, he then hands the girl a tiny pendant of a bear. An old jarl's sigil, used in the old days to carry authority within the Holds, now it was used as simple decorative clothing. "Give this to your father, he'll believe you and make sure you tell him what I said."

* * *

Alvor sat in deep thought as he watched the two men feverishly scarf down the beef stew his wife had just made. His attention wasn't mainly on his nephew Hadvar but solely on the stranger on whom Hadvar brought with. Alvor noticed rare Talos pendant dangling from the man's neck. "So…" Alvor began, "Hadvar says you're from the south?"

Rohan nods his head finishing chewing on the bread dipped in stew, "Aye sir." he says between bites, "Grew up in Chorrol, was born here in Skyrim though."

"Got any family here?"

Rohan shakes his head, "Not that I know of."

"I met him in Helgen." Hadvar spoke, "Merchant guard." Figuring that was a fitting story than _he's really some prisoner condemned to the axe and I'm really having some conflict of conscience moment_ kind of story. Rohan played along. "Yeah, merchant guard, working for some dunmer fella. Was gonna go to Morrowind till that dragon came along." He chuckles sheepishly.

Alvor snorted showing little care in Rohan's matter which was satisfying to both men to say the least.

"You two can stay here for the time being." said Alvor.

"I won't be here long sir, I'll keep out of your way." said Rohan. Alvor put up a hand shaking his head, "Nonsense, you're a newcomer and you need to get back on your feet. Take as much time as you need."

"Thank you sir." said Rohan, "And as I said, I won't be long."

"Thank you uncle." said Hadvar, "I knew you'd come through."

Alvor let out a heavy sigh, "With things going on here lad all me and your aunt can do is show the world some kindness. This damn war is taking its toll on everyone and now talk of dragons!? End times surely."

"Forgive me asking but isn't a war profitable for a blacksmith?" Rohan asked.

"This is a worse kind of war!" Alvor replied offended. "Civil War! Blade against kinsmen why should I take pride in profiting that!?"

Rohan adverted his eyes to his lap in shame, "Forgive me asking sir, I didn't mean to make you angry."

"I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at that damn jarl!" Alvor slammed his meaty fist on the table, "Ulfric Stormcloak and his band of merrymen….pah!" he spat, "Just a bunch of puffed up haughty fools going to doom all of Skyrim with their false posturing!"

"But the war has been good on production right uncle?" Hadvar asked.

"You two still think I'm making coin from this? Jarl Balgruuf made it perfectly clear no one is to support either side within his hold. Every sword I forge goes straight to his guard compliment and only his guards."

"Balgruuf can't stay outta of the fight too long however." spoke Sigrid, Alvor's wife as she came into the room with a bowl of fresh apples. She places it on the table to serve as their dessert. Rohan nods a thank you and takes one for a bite.

"And besides not everyone in Whiterun Hold follows the Jarl's proclamation." She continued.

"Quiet woman!" Alvor says not wanting his wife to babble her gossip.

"How many young'uns who just barely learns to carry a sword scurries off to Eastmarch by the day Alvor? And we all know Gerdur is sending half her lumber to Windhelm!"

"I said shush dammit!" Alvor snapped. "We will not discuss anymore of this!"

The room was quiet for a moment until Alvor let out another sigh, "It's been a long day for you two. You should probably get some rest.


	6. Sleepless Nights and Bar Fights

_**A/N: Sorry for the wait, was in the middle of a move. Plus this chapter was almost dragging to write yet a story needs development right :) Tell me what you think and thank you for all the reviews and favorites. I hope I don't dissapoint.**_

* * *

 _He can feel the flames heat spurn around him. Air tasting the black of smoke. Rohan's eyes open to see the burning village circling him. Harsh whispers echo around him yet not a soul saunders in the inferno riddled hamlet._

" _Mah deh joore!" the words echo. "Av dilon!"_

 _Rohan breathes heavy as he sits on the ground stricken fear, seeing that he was alone watching Helgen burn around him. He was alone until he looks right in front of him and sees the black scaled drake hover above him, it's fire red eyes gazing down upon him with the most evil sneer._

 _The dragon opens its jagged maw and thunders shutters out until everything then suddenly goes black. A brief image flashes before him, a mountain where a tomb lays. Another flashes of a cave deep below whispers echoing: "...Here lies the guardian Keeper of thedragonstone, And a force of unending rage and darkness…." A thundering chant echoes on and on…"Force...Force...Force"_

* * *

Rohan breaks from his sleep, now sitting up in his bedroll he wipes the perspiration from his brow as he comes to compose himself from the furious dream. It had been almost two weeks since the dragon attack in Helgen and Rohan had found shelter in the comfort and care of Hadvar's aunt and uncle, it being a bedroll in the corner of the cottage basement.

"Rough night again?" spoke Sigrid, Rohan had not notice she was in the room with him, she did not face him when she poke only keeping her attention to whatever it was she was rummaging for in a pantry. "Yeah…" Rohan sighed. "Helgen again..." he says rubbing his temples.

Sigrid looked then looked to him showing concern "Was it the same as last time."

Rohan stood up to stretch his body, "Yes and no." he said groaning a yawn. "At the end of the dream there was… a mountain."

"A mountain?"

"Looked like the one where the village lays under, the one with the crypt on top." he says "In flash there was a cave and then….chanting."

"Chanting? You heard someone chanting?" Sigrid showing some disbelief.

"More like a calling really. Ever since I've came here and Hadvar told the story about barrow on it's peak, it would sometimes sneak up on me when I'm dreaming as if it's calling me."

"Perhaps if we get some hay I can get Alvor to fashion you a bed?" Sigrid suggested. "Get you off that floor, maybe then you can sleep good."

"No my lady, I wouldn't bother you or your husband with that." Rohan said. A disgruntled look pursed Sigrid's face. "I've told you not to call me that, ain't no nobles here." she giggled. "Just Sigrid."

"Yes..uh...Sigrid, of course." said Rohan his face flushing a little red. "Like I said it's nothing serious, I'll just put _the mead before bed_ off for a while."

Sigrid snorted a laugh, "With you and Hadvar that'll be the day." she muttered.

Rohan got to his feet stretching the sores tightness from his muscles, dressing into a shirt with his pants he had been wearing for the night before heading up the stairs. "There's still breakfast on the table if you want!" Sigrid called out as Rohan left, "And you can catch Hadvar with Alvor at the forge!"

Rohan decided to skip sitting down for breakfast instead settling for a quick bite with an apple. Stepping outside to the patio on where Alvor keeps his forge/shop he finds both the smith and Hadvar working on repairs to Hadvar's uniform. His soldier's tunic was tattered and the main lining of chainmail was ripped from its padding. Alvor was already set in mending the torn patches with boiled leather pressing it with a steel ingot, an old blacksmith's trick he learned in during his days in the legion. Hadvar was sitting idle on a small stool sharpening a small iron dagger. "Ralof snuck out of town during the middle of the night." spoke Hadvar starting an idle chat. Alvor was paying no mind to the subject, only concentrating on his work. "Aye." his response.

"No doubt he's halfway towards Windhelm." said Hadvar.

"Mhmm." his uncle responded.

"Gerdur gave me a funny look earlier when I found out Ralof had gone." Hadvar continued. "You think she's passing word to Windhelm."

Alvor abruptly stopped his work, "Hadvar. Leave it!" he snapped. A silence drew in as they both glared at each other. Alvor wanted to break silence so his turned back to his work, "You're not on duty right now. So leave it." he said trying to sound calm yet the irritation he had earlier still slightly resonated. Hadvar only grumbled.

"I don't know what's up with you two." Alvor says speaking of both Hadvar's and Ralof's relationship. "The two of you were the thickest of comrades since the both of you were nothing but mere whelps."

"We both wanted to be in legion." Hadvar grumble as if in a lament, he stopped fiddling with the knife and only dazed out as his mind trailed back to the days where there was peace. "I wanting to join because of my Pa and he wanting to just travel."

"Things hasn't been the same since that mess in Markarth." Alvor spoke, "And we have Ulfric Stormcloak to thank for that." He says his face mired in a look of disgust. "Jarls bickering Jarls, Thalmor prowling the streets." He continue to mumble. "Now this damn talk of dragons coming back!? Gods are punishing us indeed."

"Evgir Unslaad." spoke someone. Both Hadvar and Alvor turn to see Rohan stepping onto the patio, he munching on an apple. "You said the Gods are punishing us yeah?" he says. Alvor nods his head.

"Season Unending is what the old nords called it. When brother fights brother and blood taints the land. Strife comes upon Skyrim and doom befalls us all." Rohan says in ever so casual tone, he was merely reciting some old nord proverb he heard when he was nothing more than a lad. Course he never truly believe in superstition, paying no mind to whatever deity's cause, Aedra nor Deadra.

"Aye" Alvor sigh, turning back to his work. "Looks like we're going back to the old way, during the harsh bloody times of our ancestors." he spat.

Hadvar only snorted, "Some nords would say that it's a good thing." he mutters recalling the cheap propaganda from some stormcloak purveyors.

"Which it is your job to keep it from turning that way!" Alvor snapped, speaking to his nephew, "You're a soldier of the Empire, _Tiber Septim's_ Empire, Talos's legacy." he stated. "Emperor Septim himself didn't save his homeland from its own annihilation to create the mightest civilization since Reman Cyrodiil just to see it gone to Oblivion!"

Rohan did a small chuckle, "No he had to kill everyone else instead, bretons, argonians, elves. Just to save nords from themselves." He mutters to himself, finishing his apple. "Speaking of the Empire going to Oblivion, didn't that almost literally happen?" He joked. That made Hadvar crack a smile a little.

Alvor shook his head at Rohan's vain humor but couldn't help but appreciate it. This man, nord or not was a newcomer, and had yet to see the full reality on what Skyrim was becoming. "Crack as many jokes you like Rohan." Alvor teased. "Just know you can't laugh at anything no matter how hard you try."

"Laughing at the shit of the world is easy master Alvor." said Rohan. "All you have to do is start by smiling at it." Both he and Hadvar began to giggle loudly.

Their little laugh was cut short as once they saw Gerdur, the mill owner and appointed chief walk towards their forge. Hadvar quickly got up from his seat to head inside. Gerdur was Ralof's older sister and known stormcloak sympathizer. And yet although both Alvor and Gerdur had opposite views on the civil war they both were mature enough to set aside politics and communicate with one another. Riverwood was too small of a village for rivalries and heated political banter to take hold of. And Alvor and Gerdur both knew to work with one another was more important for it was for the good of the village. Still Hadvar knew it was best to avoid Gerdur, for he was nothing but a walking example of Alvor's leanings.

As Gerdur stepped up to the porch she had almost bumped into him but said nothing, neither did Hadvar both not giving either a passing glance. She waited for Hadvar to enter the home before speaking. "Morning Alvor." her voice calm and quaint.

"Morning." said Alvor with a curt nod.

"Sorry to bother you but the saw on the mill jammed again and I'd rather not have Hod get his head cleaved off..." Gerdur stopped in her trail of words seeing that Alvor had been busy working some time on some armor piece, a legion soldier's armor piece at that. "I'm sorry you looked to be busy I…"

"There's no harm Gerdur." said Alvor, "I'll finish up here and go on over to take a look."

"No need." Rohan spoke, "I'll go over and see what's wrong. Finish your work master Alvor."

"The blade's stuck in the damn oak." said Hod as Rohan stepped around the mill examining it. He could the saw wedge into the thick base of wood as it was stuck in the surveyor. "Had to stop the mill from running any power." Hod used his thumb to point over to the water wheel that stopped in it turn, keeping the machinery to continue functioning so they could fix the saw safely without worrying about losing a limb.

"The blade's too dull to cut through old oak like this." said Rohan, he could tell the trees age by the shade of its wood plus its rings.

"I've told Faendal to cut tender wood only." grumbled Hod, "It ain't the season for oak this thick, you'd think a wood elf would know it's well... _wood_."

"Saw just need sharpening its all." said Rohan satisfied with his conclusion.

"Tis al!?" snapped Hod, "Do you know how much a new saw cost let alone to get it sharpened?"

"Relax, your wife asked if it to be fixed. Just need some heat to melt corundum to make it sturdy and silver to sharpen it." said Rohan as he began to take the blade from its hatch.

Rohan's remedy worked well as he heated the saw of the forge, Alvor helping. "This is an old legionnaires trick." said Alvor recalling his days in the imperial army.

"My father was a blacksmith in the legion too, he then forged swords and armor for the local guard garrison." said Rohan, steaming the saw with water so the melted corundum could cool. "He taught me a thing or two." he said adding more water to the hot blade. "Can keep sharpening the blade without reinforcing it, makes it brittle." Rohan said.

"I should hire you as my apprentice with the knowledge you've got." said Alvor. Rohan only chuckled, "Me your apprentice? That'll just make Dorthe jealous."

"Blade's done already?" Hod said, coming to smith with Gerdur. "That's great! We can atleast get some work done before sundown." said Gerdur smiling. Hod frowned at his wife, "Just wanting to throw my back out soon eh?" he mumbled.

"Me and Rohan can go set it up for you once the blade is done cooling." said Alvor.

"Don't sweat it Alvor, you've done enough for us already." said Gerdur she then looked to her husband as if giving him the clue to move his lazy ass. "Hod!"

As Alvor helped Hod with the saw, Rohan stood by wiping his soot matted hands with a cloth looking up to the mountain peak close by. He gazed at the protruding ruins on the mountain's topside. Gerdur walked up next to him looking in his direction. "I can't see how you folk can live so close to a tomb?" Rohan said.

"Bleak Falls? Wouldn't be Skyrim if we didn't have a place to bury our ancient dead." said Gerdur.

"It gives me nightmares." said Rohan shuttering, "I feel as if I can hear something speaking to me coming from there. Ralof often spoke of sleepless dead roaming the halls. Draugr they're called?"

Gerdur raised an eyebrow she could sense of hint of doubt within his question, "You don't believe in such tales?"

Rohan only shrugged his shoulders, "Back in Cyrodiil I didn't really know much Skyrim or nord customs. Had to learn of my heritage from an old nord that would visit my father's forge. Ogni was his name. Was a drunken bastard who would fight the nearest person that looked at him funny, but he would tell the best of stories. All crazy and with embellishments of course."

"So his crazy tales made you a skeptic?" said Gerdur.

"Learning things from a book can take you a long way but for me, knowledge gained from experience is greater."

"Gerdur!" called Hod. Both she and Rohan turned to see him, "I'm off to the Giant to treat Alvor and Rohan for some ales."

Gerdur's brow furrowed, "You mean you're going to sit on your arse and drink till night fall!"

"There's still daylight woman!" Hod snapped back as if that was to make his excuse any clearer. Rohan laughed, "Well" he says with a smirk, "There's no denying a rye."

* * *

Rohan sat in the corner table to himself in parlor of the Sleeping Giant Inn with his mind in a whirlwind. It had been almost a week and a half since Helgen and his mind still addled on the traumatizing event burrowed itself deep within his brain. And still there was something more, that barrow, Bleak Falls it kept coming to him in his dreams as if it was to tell him something. _"Dreams are but a reflection on what we have done with ourselves and what answers we must seek."_ His adoptive mother's words speaking his mind.

He touch the smooth obsidian Amulet of Talos dangling from his neck, _"Answers…"_ His mind speaks. Rohan suddenly caught out of his daze as the Inn keep Delphine places a tankard full of fresh brewed mead on the table in front of him.

"Oh!" he says slightly startled taking the cup for a sip. "Mmm...good!"

"Orgnar brewed it this morning, already went through two barrels." Delphine says in a boast, "Should try to our hand at the market."

"I'm sure meadery in Riften won't take kindly to the competition." said Rohan taking a few more gulps, "There's already Honningbrew they contend with."

Their conversation was then abruptly cut short from a loud bang on a table second with howls of laughter cackling out that it drowned out any sound in the inn's main hall. Four men, two of them nords, one an imperial all look to be lead by a behemoth of an orc. They were not locals of this village, " _just travelers passing through"_ as they said, yet one look of them would say that was pure mammoth shit. The three men were dressed in thick hide/leather armor where the orc was in thick iron plate. All of them were armed.

"Those four have been here since morning." Rohan heard Delphine mutter. "They've been giving you trouble?" Rohan asked. Delphine shook her head, "Not yet. Orgnar been keeping them sauced with mead but that was just to keep them from harassing the other patrons."

"Won't be long till they do however." said Rohan indicating that soon everyone in Riverwood would retire here after work for a few tankards before they call it a night.

Delphine nodded and decided it was time these folk were on their way. From the few days he's been coming to Inn he took the innkeep Delphine as a very stern strong willed woman nearing her fifties yet one could not tell by her age by the glossiness of her smooth skin, bretons had that type of flare of looking younger than they seem. Delphine had a disposition of _not putting up with your shit_ type of attitude that Rohan respected and expected from her being the fact that she was woman owning a business.

However what he didn't expect her to do was walk up to those group of rowdy men BY HERSELF to confront them.

The group of vagabonds did not notice her approach, instead their attention was entirely eloped to the orc who was busy blathering loudly of tall tale.

"So you guys know I did some work back in High Rock right?" He says in his loud gruff orcish tone. "There was priestess of Dibella back in Shornhelm, redguard broad." he says, "Forgot her name...Taya...or Deah..or…."

"Yeah...Yeah she had a name!" The imperial interrupted, "Tell us what happened next with the bitch!"

The orc continued, "So I did this job for her, an errand in getting some rare herbs for her temple or something. When the time came for payment the broad gave me only fifty septims."

"Fifty septims that's it!?" said one of the nords.

"Shut it!" the orc blurted wanting to finish his story, "Now I took the gold but the woman could tell by how I was looking at her that the payment wasn't…. _adequate_." He says trying to sound articulate as possible for an orc to be. The group of men did a tawdry snicker.

"She says: _You look as if you need something else orc_." said the orc. "And I just smile and say... _have you ever been with an orc before darling? Why don't we go to your temple and we share some knowledge of the Goddess of Affection._ And before she says another word I loosen the front of my trousers a little and whipped it out."

The men then cackled as loud as before, "You didn't!" says one of them.

"Sure did!" the orc says puffing out his chest. "Her eyes went wide at the sight of it that they surely going to pop out if further."

"A nice little tale." says a voice.

The orc turns to see a breton woman glaring at him and his comrades.

"Why don't you take that sort of drabble outside." said Delphine, "I don't need it in my inn."

The orc smiles while his posse does nothing but spit a laugh. "Come now lady, there's no harm we're all adults here."

"I don't care." Delphine says bluntly, "You and the rest of your ilk need to leave. NOW."

"You can't kick us out!" says the imperial this time. "We doing no harm."

"They can't go just yet Delphine." says someone else, it was Orgnar speaking this time. "They haven't paid their tab."

Delphine folded her arms and lean back on one hip, "Really?"

"What in Oblivion are you yapping bout!" barked the orc, "We put twenty septims down!"

"That was twelve tankards ago!" Orgnar barked back. "You still owe us for the half a barrel you drank through. That's fifty septims worth."

Delphine said nothing only giving the orc a look with a raise of her eyebrow. "What kind of scam is this!?" said the imperial, "Fifty septims for that goat piss you served us!?"

"Well I'm not paying it!" said one of the nords.

"Hear this." said Delphine in a calm cool tone, "You pay me the gold you owe and leave, and then we won't have any trouble."

A beat of silence chills through the room mixing with the intensity that was slowing brewing. Trouble was coming, Rohan could feel it. The way that orc was glaring at Delphine he knew that giant of a mer would tear the poor woman in half. He gets from his table walking towards her ready to clear the situation before it derails any further, but before he could get close to her a songful whistle hollers at him and Rohan turned to see it was Orgnar trying to get Rohan's attention. The barkeep shook his head giving Rohan a look assuring that the situation was under Delphine's control.

The group laughs at the breton's request. "Alright lady…" says the orc, "Listen." He reaches out a hand to clasp Delphine's shoulder when she caught it. Grabbing the orc's muscular forearm with an intense strength. The grip was so strong that it even caught the orc off guard to point where he was lost for words. "So you want to do this hard way?" Delphine says before twisting the orc's arm in a way it shouldn't be causing it make a gnarly snap.

The orc let out a bellowing roar of pain before being slammed to the floor by the sheer force of Delphine yanking his bent arm, pulling him overheard into a throw upon which gravity did its course and sent him to the floor.

The imperial with a steel dagger in his hand lunges at Delphine trying to stab at her, Delphine leans her body out of the way of the knife and in one swift move she grabs the man's arm and turns into where the knife then churns towards him stabbing him in the shoulder.

One of the nords came with a sharp jab striking her right the jaw. That blow could've sent anyone to floor knocked out. But Delphine did not flinch nor did it sent her down to the nords amazement. Instead she only glared at the nord spat out a piece of blood and countered with a sharp kick sending the nord back into the wall. "Oof!" he yelped. The other nord _the smart one_ does nothing but remains in his chair putting his hands up in a faux surrender.

"You're gonna pay for that you bitch!" the orc growled, drawing an iron make mace from his uninjured hand. He let's out a roaring howl of a battle cry and charges at her. Rohan in pure amazement watch in a blink of an eye as Delphine smoothly draws the elven made dagger from her belt and cuts at the orc's armed hand sending the mace out of it disarming. Still one motion she uses the inertia the orc draws from running and pushes at him to the floor once more this time pinning him with the dagger at his throat.

"Now I'm going to say it again." said Delphine still in her calm voice. "PAY ME. AND LEAVE."

"Let's just pay the mad woman and go!" says the nord who was smart enough not to put up a fight. Taking his now bleeding hand, the orc reaches for a small sack on his person and shows it to her. "This...is….all the money I've got." he grunted in pain.

She snatches the coin pouch from her and gets off him, his crew then scurries away. "Come on!" says the imperial limping out to the door. "Arvel should be done with that trader anway!"

Rohan watches as all them hurry out like scarred puppies, the last one shuts the door and all the patrons who stood by watching turn their attention back to their business as if normal. All but Rohan. "I'll get the broom and start cleaning." says Orgnar.

Delphine sheathes her dagger and wipes her hands with cloth on her gown. "Thanks Orgnar." she says.

"Ummm…" Rohan sputters trying to make words, "How...did that just happen?"

Delphine knew the kid was too stunned from the show it sought need to clarify, "Innkeeping can be a dangerous job, especially when you're an inn on road travelers frequent. You'll never know who walks in."

"Those men looked to be brigands." said Rohan.

"Not surprising." said Orgnar who was sweeping some debris off the floor, "Faendal said he saw a couple of them lurking on the mountain side towards the old nordic crypt while he was out hunting."

"Bandits this close to Riverwood?" said Rohan, "What? No guard patrols come this way?"

Delphine shook her head, "Not this far in Whiterun Hold, we're on the border to Falkreath and if the new Jarl even spots armed soldiers that close to his hold, he'll take it as an attack. And it's all thanks to this damn war started, Jarls at each others throat to a point on where they can't protect their own people."

"You say there were going to a crypt?" Rohan asked.

"Bleak Falls." said Orgnar.

"That crypt overhead? I keep seeing it in my dreams. Whispering." said Rohan.

"Whispering? I've never heard of any of that? And lived here in Riverwood for years." said Delphine with a snort.

"The old tales speak of ancient power that dwells in the bowels of the barrow. That only the worth shall receive." said Orgnar. "But its old children stories."

Later at nightfall the inn was fill with all of Riverwood locals, with laughter and song as food and mead was being toasted around. Rohan was outside in the quiet sitting on the front porch staring at the mountain top, looking at the barrow. _"Something in there is calling me...And it wants me to find it."_


	7. Tomb Raider

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay, this took forever to write but please enjoy.**_

Bjorn sat at the fire pit watching the charred skin of the skeever he had on the skewer peels itself into blacken curls. He did not bother to turn it, the meat was already to dry and a few bites he took earlier was tasteless and too chewy that it killed what little appetite he had. Now he just sat there on the floor of this damp old crypt he was slumming in, watching the rat burn in nothing more but out of enate boredom. And Soling wasn't helping, all she did was paced around muttering to herself like some badgering hagraven.

He reaches for one of the packs they brought to camp to find a bottle with barely enough of a swig of alto wine to satisfy himself. Annoyed he tosses the bottle upon where it shattered cursing under his breath.

"We'd probably had more hadn't that orc fool Gorgel not pissed off the nearest ale house and got his arse kick." Soling murmured.

Bjorn snorted in disgust, "Who was he said attacked him?"

Soling spoke in almost that of a laugh, "Some breton bitch who runs the inn. I almost can't believe it, those worthless bastards getting their ends handed to them by some frail innkeeper."

Bjorn noticed the unfeathered annoyance in Soling's voice and watched her as she continued her brisk pacing.

"You know trying to make Nirn turn by your feet isn't going to help pass the time." Bjorn said.

Soling threw her hands in the air as she stopped pacing for a moment, "Arvel has been gone too long and Harknir went looking for him almost an hour ago and he hasn't come back neither."

Bjorn raised an eyebrow. "You're worried for them?"

"I'm worrying about my fucking cut! I want my share from that claw!" she said, "Why in Oblivion even let that fucking dunmer scout ahead?!"

"Cause he's the smart one of the group." said Bjorn.

"Pfft" spat Soling folding her arms and turning away from him. "Or so that's what he likes to tell everyone."

A lewd idea had suddenly came to mind that it gave Bjorn an unsettling smirk, "You know…" he said, "There's another way you and I can pass the time."

Soling turned back to him. "Wha…" she stopped mid speech and noticed the sly vulgar smile he had and turned back facing away again in utter disgust. "Never in your fucking life you horkerface shit!"

"Aw come on Sol…." said Bjorn getting to his feet and approaching her, she quickly walked past him facing the darkness on where the front door was. Not noticing the arrow coming flying out of the shadows and into her throat.

Her yell was a croaked up cough as blood began to pool in her throat to her mouth. The attack happen so fast that it took Bjorn a brief moment to notice Soling before she fell on the floor spitting up blood, a well placed arrow protruding from her neck. He ran to where she had stood reaching for the obsidian ebony dagger he had clasped in his holster. "What the fuc…" His words cut short as searing pain shot from his lower end, between his legs.

An arrow was right on the tender area of his groin. He had let go of the hilt of his still holstered dagger about to scream a shearing howl before a figure dashed from the shadows and clasped his mouth shut, muffling the scream.

The figure had him to the ground pinning him, Bjorn was trying the best he could from all the pain he was feeling to make out who was grabbing him. It was a man judging by the strength and broad body, he was dressed in light clothing a belted tunic with leather braces and deer hide boots, two daggers where holstered in the front of his shirt and a oak wood hunting bow with steel make arrows along with a short steel sword both weapons clasped behind him.

His face was covered in a soft linen wrap maybe to keep him conspicuous or to protect himself from the snowy winds outside judging by the flakes of snow coating his thick eyebrows with two piercing blue eyes that were glaring right down at Bjorn.

 _How did he get in without making a sound?_ Bjorn thought, the front door was a hulking mass of iron that echoed when its hinges churn. Yet the stranger was ever so silent, that or Bjorn and Soling was too distracted to notice by their bantering. It didn't matter now, all that matter was searing pain that was thrashing his body.

The stranger dragged Bjorn to the his previous seat, against a log near the fire pit. "Who...who are you?" said Bjorn through gritted teeth.

"Doesn't matter." said the stranger, his voice deep yet cool. He took a seat across from his, pulling the linen wrap from his face. Bjorn could see from the small light of the fire that the man was a nord.

Pain suddenly shot from his lower stomach causing Bjorn to clench at it feeling the blood seeping out.

The stranger notices the injury and slowly reaches into the pouch of his pocket pulling out a small red vial a health potion that could surely staunch the pain and halt the bleeding, giving him enough strength to find proper bandages. "This is yours if you can tell me why you brigands are camped out here." He said in a cool smooth voice, placing the vial next to his foot for Bjorn to see. "Your lady friend talked about some dunmer that went far ahead?"

"Arvel…" said Bjorn wincing. "Folk call him _the swift_ …" he gurgled, it had become hard at every attempt at speaking. "He's the one who found that claw ." He managed still gripping himself in immense pain.

"Claw?"

"The Golden Claw. He got it from that trader in Riverwood, the one that has that sister with the nice tits. Dumb fool kept it as an ornament, didn't know that its a key."

"A key to what?" the stranger crouched over him.

"Don't fucking know!" Bjorn wallowed for a minute, "Legend says there's a great treasure here deep in the crypt and only the claw can open it. Arvel's the one who knows more about it so he went ahead."

"You didn't want to go with him?"

"I'm not fucking crazy!" Bjorn said with a glare. "I know the stories of places like these just like any other nord. The dead walk restless here." Those last words of his sentence, grim and cold.

That was all the information the man could get out of him. And with that the stranger rose taking potion in his hand and tossing it with a few playful catches before placing it high above a ledge far from where Bjorn was. "It's yours if you can get it." he said casually walking off.

Bjorn looked on in utter fear and anger, he could barely feel his legs and was starting to feel dizzy with all the blood that he was losing. There was no way he could reach that vial. "WHORESON!" he yelled and it echoed that was all he could manage.

Rohan didn't like here, the barrow was dark, dusty, old and hollow. The arid smell of decay did not barter well with his sense and almost made his stomach churn yet he tread on. Taking a torch he found lit on a wall with him. The elf the bandit mentioned may lit this torch as where many others to light his way back. Rohan kept his steps light and quiet, his eyes darting at every corner for any movement. The nightmares he had been having since coming to Riverwood all ended with the faint sound of harsh whispery chants with an open cavern showing it was somewhere deep within the barrow. Something calling him, luring him deeper and deeper and deeper into the tomb of Bleak Falls.

Coming down a stairwell to narrow hall, Rohan walked into an oddly designed room. A gated door was at the far end, and judging by the lever Rohan concluded was that was for opening but some gave him a feeling that there something more to what was there. One of the hint showed by that of body on the floor. An nord man, bandit by the looks laid stiffly on the ground. His pale skin was a tinge greenish and his face literally paralyzed in fear. Whatever killed him was agonizing and it showed in his expression. To Rohan's left were three columns all ornated in the totem of an animal. One a snake, the other eagle and the last a whale.

Rohan remember that the old totems were the ensemble of the ancient Atmoran gods, the pantheon of his ancestors. _"Could this be the temple area of the crypt?"_ He wondered unknowingly but if by instinct leaning on the nearest thing he could rest upon he pondered. That nearest thing being the lever to his sudden surprise. It let out a loud _clank!_ As it shifted, startling him.

Then suddenly he could hear the loud pop of something shooting from the walls.  
His body reacted quickly and he jumped from where he once been, diving into roll and out of the path the darts that were now shooting at him. One whizzed by his ear, nearly touching him as he dove, while another did hit its mark, barely. His shoulder caught a graze, and he could feel the tense stinging numbness as the poison began to trickle in. The shooting stopped, the darts had pelted bandit, revealing that that was what had killed him. _Poor bastard._ Rohan raised to his feet clutching his shoulder sighing in frustration. The only way forward was through that door and yet it seemed its switch had a different agenda of use. Or was that only switch? Maybe it was a trick or maybe…

Rohan kept his attention on those three totems, something in his gut gave him feeling that those icons were more than just for show. His attention the caught up to the wall above, there it showed other totems but this time it had a sense of pattern to it and not some odd lineup. _Snake, snake, whale…_ It showed.

Rohan's brow furrowed as he step closer to the totems, his eyes still on the pattern above. Instinctively he reached out and touched one in the center. It turned loosely as he pushed, startling him. _They move?_ He looked back at the pattern and then moveable columns and matched them accordingly, _snake, snake, whale._

Now it was back at the switch, his heart began to race he clutched at the lever. He prepared himself to dart out of the path before being shot at. With sudden pull of the lever, Rohan ran from out of the dart's path but this time nothing happened, other than the gate of the door pulling up and out of the way.

Bewildered Rohan looked on, "Clever." he said out loud, "Fucking clever!" he shouted walking further in.

It was a lot more drafty when Rohan walked further in, and almost completely dark save face to the torch he carried. That said the cold darkness did not bode well for Rohan's composure, for he was quite agitated looking for any movement in the dark shadows, the hollow silence gave him eerie feeling yet he continue forward. A few skeevers suddenly skuttle out, Rohan made quick work with them kicking one and hitting the other with the torch.

"IS THAT YOUR HAKNIR!?" suddenly echoed a voice. Rohan remained silent waiting for it to speak again.

"BJORN!" it called out, "SOLING!" it hollered again. Rohan walked down darkened corridor further towards it.

"I KNOW I WENT FURTHER DOWN BUT I NEED HELP!"

The voice led Rohan to an open chamber much different than other cramped halls and that it had no fire to provide light yet an open chasm in it's ceiling to that of a drainage cover, the bright moonlight outside proving a beam of light. Aside from its damp coldness it was rather covered wet mass of webs woven as if an army of arachnids lived here.

Something of the sight of these webs gave Rohan a chill more so than the cold air. Further ahead towards the end of the chamber at its doorway was an elf. A dunmer who was to quite some surprise _caught_ within the door's threshold. Webbing wove around the dark elf like a thick cocoon blanket, his face the only thing exposed where his arms and legs could barely budge.

"What in Dagon's cock!?" said Rohan stepping close to the elf inspecting him.

"Quick!" hissed the dunmer, "Cut down before _it_ comes back!"

"What comes back?" asked Rohan. And at end of his words a low hiss echoes from above and the dark elf halts his scurrying, his breath stopping in his throat as he looks ahead with his deep red eyes out wide.

Rohan turned to see what painted the horror upon the elf's face, and as he turned to see, his blood went cold. The elf screamed in terror.

Before them was a gargantuan beast of eight legs, its doubles set of dark eyes direct upon Rohan, with its bulbous fangs piercing out dripping of acidic spit as it hisses. A frostbite spider, a very very _large_ frostbite spider came for him, crawling from the opening above and spindling down on thick web rope.

"Oh fuck…." muttered Rohan. Of course, why wouldn't there be frostbite spider here. All the wet webbing was a no brainer that there were spiders a foot. But Rohan could yet ponder the size of this monster.

It dashed towards him, its long spiney legs giving it a reach of speed. Rohan began to run from out of its path. He nimbly misses the leap it made, the spider trying to grab at him with its maw. Rohan dropped his torch during the run and spider mistakenly stepped on it, it winching in a whine from the burn.

He drew his bow, notching an arrow quick from the quiver and giving a loose. He didn't want it to get close, fighting it at close range would be the most unwise thing to do when fighting frostbite spider, especially one this size. He aimed for the face, its making its target the arrow merely bounced off as no damage shown at all. The spider's leathery chassis was almost to the same lining of that thick hide made armor. And as sharp as Rohan's arrow were they would do so much of a scratch.

 _Shit…._ Guess he had to do this hard way. Rohan drew his sword, the spider took up the challenge and flung one its front legs at him as if to stab him. He parried the blow yet was not quick enough for another front leg to come in jabbing at his shoulder. "AH!" Rohan yelped dashing back to avoid more blows along with the sharp bite.

A stinging numbing sensation burned Rohan's arm, he slumped a bit limping away from the beast. The spider watched him the way a predator taunts its prey. Letting it feel the anguish slowly creeping round its victim and watching, giving the prey the sense of fear knowing that it was to be its last living. Rohan didn't keep his eyes off the beast, both their eyes locked in a standoff. He was short of breath, no doubt the venom was kicking in. The dread feeling as Rohen knew that the poison was going ail him slowly and…

 _Wait a moment…._ Rohan remembered some, at least two days back. In Riverwood a night before he was to set out in the morning and hunt for some game for Mistress Sigrid to cook for supper. Sigrid had gave Rohan a small dark green vial.

" _What's this?"_ he asked.

" _Frostbite venom, lot of wild spiders around these parts and usually when folk go hunting or picking for mushrooms the poor sod would stumble upon a nest or get jumped on and bit. So we take a few doses to ward off the effects of a bite. Here take a few sips before you sleep and take a few more at breakfast before you set out. That way your body gets used to to it. Most nords adapt quick if you take regular doses."_

Rohan smiled at that revelation for he remembering taking medication and although his arm burned and stung at the same time, he realized he could still move it. If he got out this alive, he will kill a mammoth and provide Mistress Sigrid a lifetime of meat after this. The spider bend its legs deep posturing itself for a pounce, Rohan got ready dodging in a roll from the leap. Both hands on his sword, putting himself in a defensive stance, concentrating. The spider virtually had no visible weak points for Rohan to exploit, its body was harden and judging by the white fine hairs on its skin, the spider looked to have been here for quite some time. It was a veteran hunter. But then… Rohan remembered, the torch it touched when it first pounced, how it whined in pain.

"FIRE YOU FUCK!" yelled the dark elf reminding Rohan that he was still here,"IT HATES FUCKING FIRE!" It was as if the dunmer could read minds for Rohan was getting to that realization.

But Rohan had no fire with him, for the torch was blown out when the spider stepped on it. And he knew no fire magic except...a scroll he found in the previous chamber had a fireball incantation on it.

Rohan almost forgot about the thing, quickly reaching for his pocket Rohan pulled out a now damp scroll. The spider was starting to begin its final charge, Rohan hoping the moisture had no ruin the magical effects open the paper. An incantation flashed from the scroll and Rohan felt his hands heat up. Suddenly two spheres of flames circulate in his palm and for a briefly Rohan could feel the magicka surge through him. The spider let out harrowing grown charging towards him once more.

With a shot of his hands great burst of inferno let out hitting the spider directly. The blasts were loud booms, the spider whined aguishly as the blasts explode upon it. A high pitched squeal from the eight legged beast. As the flames dispersed, Rohan could see the bleeding burned from the spider. It was wounded now, even better it was vulnerable. With the courage he could gather, Rohan lunged at the beast with his sword.

He went for one the front legs first, slashing at it making the big bug scream. The spider tried to counter but its injuries made its attacked slowed, giving Rohan a chance to smoothly dodge a swipe from the spider other leg. He countered cutting at that leg next, slicing it off and sending it flying.

"Yeah that's it!" cheered the elf.

In flurry of attacks, Rohan made the steady pace of dodging and countering. When the spider went for a bite, Rohan weaved from the path of his fangs, stabbing it with the point of his sword. He dodged a leg and then cut at it and then went for another leg until the pace of the battle had changed completely with the spider now fending for itself from the attacks until Rohan finished it by slashing at its maw leaving a deep long gnash and then finally as it whines in pain once more Rohan went with a stab from above. His sword piercing deep atop the arachnid's head causing it to slump dead.

A sigh of relief could be heard from both Rohan and the tethterd dark elf. Rohan looked at the large carcass as it oozed green blood, feeling complete disbelief that could slay such a beast. But still he had his mission to complete, so he took a final breath, gathered his composure, muttered "I fucking hate those things." sheath his sword, and went back to the dunmer.

The elf was quite elated despite his current circumstance, "You did it!" he beamed, smiling, "Now get me down from here!"

"Hold on." said Rohan crossing his arms. "You're Arvel aren't you?"

The elf raised an eyebrow, "Wha...I mean yeah I'm him. What of it?"

Rohan shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing just your comrades mention. Said something about some golden claw."

"Yeah I still have the claw." said Arvel. "I know how all of it works, the claw, the hall of stories, the door, I know how it all fits together."

 _Hall of stories?_ Rohan's mind was a bit muffled in thought at Arvel's explanation. "Do you hear...voices?" he asked.

Arvel was a bit stunned by the absurdity of the question, "Voices? What in Arkay?"

"Chants!" Rohan tried to explain but halted right there, "Nevermind."

"Look I don't know what are you asking maybe that spider's venom still have you fumbling but listen get me down and I promise you I will show you the treasure locked away in this place. You won't believe the power the ancient nords have hidden here." said Arvel.

Rohan was at a bit of passe at the elf's words, helpless fool that was previously still didn't tarnish the fact that he was of the brigand type and has the intention of looting this burial site. But still, was Rohan's purpose any different? He too was here in search of whatever his ancestors locked away eons ago. Yet his reasons wasn't as selfish as this common bandit was yet similar goals can reach easier heights. However Rohan instinct still quailed him to not trust the dunmer.

"Give me the claw first." Rohan said. Arvel gave look as if his mother was insulted, "Does it look like I can!? You have to cut me down first!"

True and obvious words, Rohan however was hoping to find some other way round without leaving his task completely at mercy with Arvel, yet the elf had the key and as said before knew much more that Rohan.

Drawing one of his daggers, Rohan began sawing at the thick coated webbing. Arvel could feel the coating loosen, "That's it! Almost there!"

Rohan sawed away the last chunk of web, placing the dagger back in its sheath "Alright this tomb is bigger than it looks so it's best if we stay…." His words were cut short at the shot of pain that kick to his groin. Rohan had to catch his own scream of pain as grabbed himself and slumped over.

"You fool!" Arvel laughed, dashing away. "Why should I share the treasure with anyone!?"

As far he can remember, Rohan has been stabbed, punched, kicked, broke bones, a ruptured spleen, bitten, and mauled, yet there is one thing he could stand is getting kicked in his dandies. That. Pissed. Him. Off.

Getting to his feet with anger causing him to ignore the pain, Rohan went after the slippery bastard.

Arvel was but half a meter away by then. He had scurried off into a catacomb type room. His feet sliding to a halt at the sight of the mummified bodies resting in their beds. Yet something was off, they didn't seem to be in an eternal sleep. And just as the elf thought, one had stirred. The loud patter of feet scurrying towards made one of the dried dead's eyes open. Yet there were but eyeless sockets in a gloomy blue glow. Draugr.

The boneman got to its feet carrying a sharp battleaxe in hand, yet the make was ancient that the design was almost unrecognizable. After that draugr got up, another did and soon another.

Rohan had come charging in a minute later to see the horror show before him. Four armed draugr stood before them. _"Unslaad Krosis!"_ one croaked, it had no skin formed on its throat as it breathed no air thus forming a full tone voice was impossible. Only croaking whispers and howls was all these dried skeletons could muster.

Arvel quickly darted off, he made it to the far end of the room yet he's eagerness to get away left him unaware of the trap he set off when stepping on a loose stone. It triggered a mechanism causing switch of a barbed spiked door to come swinging at him. The force of the hit was so heavy that the dark elf flew back across the room, his limp body dead on the ground.

While Arvel was dead, Rohan was left to deal with the draugr. Drawing his blade, Rohan pushed down whatever unfettered fear he harrowed by these creatures and a bold sense of battle raged within him.

One with the battleaxe clumsily swung its blade at him, Rohan weaved from its path countering with the slash that made the draugr stumble back, another with a sword as well quickly came swinging a blow from above but Rohan quickly parried stabbing the draugr with full force kicking it off its blade. The boneman falls dead, the light in its eyes fading.

Rohan went back at the one with the battleaxe, the creature blocks his attack with the hilt of his axe but maybe in a sense it had forgotten the aged oak of its wood for the Rohan's attack was hard enough that when the draugr blocked it, the hilt snapped in half. The draugr seemed stunned by the heaviness of the blow to a point that its attention was lost not noticing the strike Rohan gave it to the head, it falls to the floor dead.

The third draugr came charging at Rohan with two small waraxes in both hands. Rohan blocked the strike and for a minute the two were locked in blades, the draugr showing a strange amount of the strength. _"Av dilon!"_ it said in its ghostly voice.

Rohan kicked the draugr off him hard, it falls to its knees trying to counter with a strike from one of its axes, Rohan blocked it coming a second later with a strike of his own, slicing at the draugr across ways.

As that draugr then lies dead, Rohan eases his guard a little unaware of the last draugr who was at the far side of the room armed with a bow. The arrow shot at him, nimbly missed Rohan leaving a small graze of a cut on his cheek. Rohan quickly turned to see that the draugr had notched another arrow. The arrow loose and Rohan quickly dodge, tumbling into a forward roll and grabbing one of the battle axes of the previously slain draugr with him in one motion. Rolling back onto his feet, Rohan threw the axe the blade flying right into the draugr face. The light faded from its eyes as it now fell to its knees dead.

Draugr or not they still fought like men they once were and if it's one thing Rohan was good at was killing men.

He had heard of the tales of draugrs, ancient nord dead who still walk restless for after death Sovngarde would not grant them a place in their halls nor did Oblivion for their willing servitude to the tyrannical dragons granted them eternal shun.

Draugr, Rohan still had a job to do.

Going over to the now dead Arvel, Rohan went through the elf's small pack that was still holstered to him. "Dumb bastard." he mumbled going through the dunmer's effects. An empty flask of mead, a half eaten apple, a knife, a few lockpicks was there until Rohan reached the claw.

A sizeable trinket that took the shape of dragon's palm and talons made out of solid gold. Key or not this bouble would still sell for a good piece of coin. What was more peculiar about this claw were etchings carved within its palm.

 _Dragon, owl, bear._ Rohan remember such patterns back in the first chamber which triggered a trap if there patterns were printed correctly before using the switch. His mind stayed with the fact that such puzzles would be used with this claw and so he kept the claw's given pattern in mind.

Draugr weren't the only obstacle in Rohan's endless endeavor, traps were another piece. For as he went deeper and deeper, peril was always through the next door in the next room. Swinging axes, floor pads that lit up flames when pressure was applied, a loose cave troll. It was as if this place was designed to kill you come time you walking through the door. Whatever _treasure_ hidden here was meant to stay here.

But Rohan endured and his tenacity paid off for came the last chamber he entered. An empty hallowed hall, with ornate designs pictures. The Hall of Stories.

The name was pretty explanatory, in it it showed a priestess by the looks of its ancient garb leading their procession into a ritual on how an honored dead was buried and encased into this tomb.

At the end of the hall was the door yet it was no simple open and shut door, but a thick stone wall with three rings bound in its front. In the center of the ring was a slot that looked to where only the dragon claw could fit, the keyhole.

Coming to the door Rohan touched the rings, he knew that the door was some _elaborate_ puzzle. To much of his surprise the rings did move as he pushed one of them. Circling it he could see that they each showed a totem animal on each turn. Just like the moving pedestals in the first room, these must show a certain pattern for it to open. Luckily Rohan had already figured. _Dragon_ , outer ring, _Owl,_ middle ring, _Bear,_ inner ring. Placing the claw into the slot, Rohan took a deep breath and turned it.

The claw then took a mind of its own and automatically churned clockwise spinning the rings with it until all three were perfectly aligned. The door then moved slowly sliding down revealing an open cave like chasm.

Rohan took a torch from its walls and step forth into the darkness. His mind boggled for the sight of the cave flashed before him in his dreams as he remembered, he was here, he could feel it, he could... _hear_ it.

Atop a hill side was a wall, a not so ordinary wall however. Climbing up to it Rohan saw an elaborate design of a dragon mural placed atop this wall with the strange calligraphy etched into the stone.

Rohan did not recognize the language, it was elven or any ancient tongue he knew. But it was old, very and he could hear it speak. The chant he would hear in his dreams were now louder and echoed the cave as if a large army was marching through singing a battle song.

Stepping closer to wall he could hear the it speak to him with his ears and from within, it was almost mesmerizing.

He was hesitant at first as he reached his hand out to touch it but something within him told him to do so anyway. At the faint touch of the wall he could hear the whispery chants echo from within him. To a point he could clearly see them within his mind: _"HET NOK Faal VahLOK DeinMaaR DO DovahGOLZ ahRK aaN FUS DO UnSLaaD RahGOL ahRK VULOM!"_ the wall spoke, Rohan could barely understand a single thing yet one word kept speaking to him, as if it was imprinting itself upon him. _Fus...Fus...Fus...Fus…._

He came down here searching for answers and yet all he got was more questions.

 _This was the great power?_

Rohan felt the urge to curse but knew it was futile it wouldn't make him or anything better. So in silence, he set off for an exit.

 _CRACK!_

The snap of a sarcophagus nearby startled him. Stepping out was a tall draugr armed with an ancient greatsword, its eyes glowed a blue hue gleamed from the opening of its horned helmet. There was something about that draugr that Rohan could tell wasn't an ordinary draugr.

He watched as it heaved its chest as if taking a deep breath. _"Fus…_ " it spoke _"RO DAH!"_

A surging wind comes charging forward, it took Rohan a second for him to realize that that he was off the ground flying into a wall across the cave.

He hit the wall with a serious thud, his body coarsing pain all over as if a troll had picked him up and slung him across.

" _The fuck... was that?"_ he said spitting out blood. The pulsing pain had him struggling to get to his feet. He made it to where he was just taking a knee when the draugr not far stood far before and heaved its chest ready to bellow out once more.

Not wanting to bear another push, Rohan quickly look around and found a thick branded iron shield nearby, next to the clean skeletal remains of another unlucky traveler.

" _Ro Dah!"_

The thundering blow howls at him, Rohan blocked it in time. Hunkering down like he was taking cover from a wind storm.

As the shout went past, Rohan drew his blade charging at the creature with a battle harden rage.

The draugr with its greatsword blocked Rohan's blow, their blades now locked within one another. For someone that didn't show a bit of muscle on its skeletal visage, the draugr

was surprisingly strong. Rohan was able to get the upper hand however, pushing the draugr back and coming at him with a low swing.

It made its target, hitting the draugr in the legs. Rohan thought he could make chain attack, coming upward with a swing but the draugr caught him with a block from its broad sword. _"Fus…"_ it began, taking a breath. _"Ro-_

Rohan bashes it with his shield, staggering the creature. Keeping the draugr off balance, would not give it time for its power to regain for it to shout. And so Rohan bashed the boneman yet again, and again. The draugr struggled but kept to its feet, yet it was still quite winded. With mustered strength, its swings its sword down onto Rohan, Rohan catches it with its shield.

Tired yet determined, the draugr began its cadence, _"Fus…"_ Rohan quickly brought up the shield, pushing the draugr back.

" _Ro Da-_

The blade of Rohan's sword cut at the neck the draugr, and brought its head flying across the way. The head went to the ground with a thud, and the glowing of the draugr's eyes, faded.

Rohan rested his now sore sword arm, panting heavily. He took a few more breaths before finally regaining his composure and sheathing his sword, wiping the sweat from his brow.

 _That was a shout?_ He wonderd, _It has to be, legends of the storm voice. The thu'um._

In the past, Rohan had read books telling of his ancestors, in ancient days. The Nord Tongues as they were called ,masters of the Voice. The Voice was ancient magical power that had long been forgotten in Nirn. No one has used it or saw someone use it since, well... until Ulfric Stormcloak.

But now the sight of this draugr had Rohan's mind in a different tumble. _Was that the treasure? A shouting draugr?_

There had to be something here. Rohan wasn't ready to leave believing he had risked his life for nothing. The dreams he had been having, that _wall_ calling to him and now...nothing?

Stepping over to the coffin where the draugr had laid, Rohan had the inclination that maybe that draugr was placed here from all the others for a reason, gaurding something maybe. And to his surprise it was, just something he wasn't expecting really.

Inside the draugr's bed was a stone tablet. There were markings on it, the same as the ones on the wall, Rohan could translate them yet the lettering felt familiar to a point that if he looked at it hard enough maybe he could read what it is.

Like when he was studying the chanting wall before, something within his very essence told him that he should know what this means. But he didn't and after all this trouble, Rohan finally had to realize the fact that he just wasted his time, fighting through dusty old tomb filled with spiders and undead assholes who should know that the dead should stay dead, all for a rickety old slab that could possible say _privy_.


	8. A Claw, A Stone, and A Night to Remember

The sun had hit the sky and the cockerel crooned waking Lucan. Dawn had begun, he could smell the dew rousing in the air from outside mixing with the pine trees forming a most relaxing fragrance. Riverwood had its perks, remote, small and quiet. Away from the loud bustle in the Imperial City, just the way Lucan liked it. Sighing a yawn, Lucan raised from his bed, dusting whatever loose straw from his bed off of him and getting to his feet to begin his routine.

He decided to let Camilla sleep in for a few more hours, wanting to open the store himself. He preferred it that way, Camilla had been having quite the _arduous_ temperament as of late. For the past months she had rousting about selling used weapons and armor at discounted prices for any traveling adventurers passing by, a good idea except for the fact that selling used weapons could make them target of unsavory characters, people looking for a fence and what not. Then there was an incident where a traveling herbalist had came by with some rather exoctic potions to sell, _again_ that would make them a target. Camilla would get upset feeling as if she wasn't appreciated. It was her store too, as Lucan would tell her but he'd wish she'd understand that they came here to Riverwood to get away from all the rabble they left behind in Cyrodiil. _"Dry goods and supplies for the local villagers is the hub of our store and nothing else."_ Is what he'd told her one day, and she'd huff, argued on how his lack for enterprise would bring ruin to this store and saulk about it all day making his day miserable. And since the burglary recently, her attitude was becoming more hard to endure.

Skipping breakfast and getting dressed, Lucan was quick to log inventory and sweep up before the day bell rings when he heard Camilla already awake and getting herself ready. She came downstairs wearing a bright yellow spring dress showing a little too much cleavage for a peasant gown, her hair, long and dark brown was messed into a bun and she was in light makeup, mainly her eyes dolled up in black eyeliner with light mascara. Always the dressy one that. _"Maybe she's off see on of those suitors of hers."_ Lucan thought, while sweeping the floor slowly, _"That idiot bard Sven or that annoying elf Faendal."_ Their parents would roll in their graves at the sight of their only daughter messing with that lot, he thought.

"No breakfast for you dear brother?" Camilla said coming down. Lucan was slow to respond, "No, I want to get the store up and ready before the day begins."

"Why so early, people are outside lining up for what? Flour, mushrooms, _dung!?_ "

"Farmers need fertilizer dear sister." he said not looking up from the floor.

"It's been two days since the robbery and no word?" Camilla asked.

"I sent word to Gerdur who says she passed it onto the town guard in Whiterun." Lucan retorted.

"That's it!?" Camilla snapped, "That's all you're going to do!? We were robbed by bandits Lucan! Bandits on which you'd say would never come here because we don't have anything bandits want, right?"

Lucan said nothing only finishing his duties to ready the shop trying to keep his mind busy off the thought of the robbery. That claw….that sweet golden claw. Lucan had used it as ornament as way to attract customers. He knew it was worth some coin yet people from all over the province would come here to see a rare dragon's claw up close.

Camilla continued her rambling "We sell, flour, eggs, dirt and shit! And we still get robbed by fucking brigands! And then there's this talk of dragons…"

"Rumors.." Lucan interjected nonchalantly.

"And the civil war!?"

"This is Skyrim, the nords here fight over everything."

Camilla laughed, "I'm loving how you're refusing to accept the reality. Bandits robbed our place and you're doing nothing about it! We'll get burglarized again if we don't act!" She steadied herself, calming down. "Look I'm not saying you should go out personally and look for it, I'm saying is that I'll hire a nice burly fella that swings his sword for a living which in Skyrim isn't hard to find….."

"No."

"Well one of us have to do something!"

"I said NO! NO THIEF CHASING! NO HEROICS! WE'RE DONE TALKING ABOUT THIS!"

Two loud rapts bang the door cutting the brother and sister _discussion_ short. _"Are you open!?"_ " said a voice.

 _Gods, a customer._ Lucan thought, _I hope by he didn't hear that, Zenithar's mercy if I start losing customers cause of my dear sister's constant needs to debate._ "Uh...Yes! Come in...Please!"

Rohan opened the door, stepping through, carrying to a large sack that looked to be holding some weight. "Divines bless you this fine morning!" he sung greeting the shopkeepers, he always sound disturbingly cheery when he knows some coin is to be made. Comes with being a mercenary he supposed.

Lucan was a little taken aback Rohan's sudden appearance. They barely were acquainted, he only knew him as that stranger who survived Helgen, that squats at the blacksmith's house. But he was quite eager to see what the nord was carrying, no doubt here to make quick coin by his perky attitude but he was still intrigued not many days since someone came to for a pawn. Camilla however was not interested in what goods he was carrying but the man himself. Lucan could tell by how hungirly she was eyeballing him, she was always like that when new guys came marching in, especially nord men and it annoyed him.

"I was speaking with Gerdur earlier." said Rohan setting the sack down on the floor, "And she told me you had something like this?"

He pulled out a shining golden plated dragon's claw and suddenly a burst of joy spilled on Lucan's and Camilla's face. "The claw!" Lucan cheered, "You found it! But how!?"

"In Bleak Falls Barrow, off a bandit's corpse."

"You went in the Barrow by yourself?" Camila asked.

Rohan flashed her a small grin, "Yeah, went there last night."

"By yourself?!"

"Yeah."

Camilla was trying to find words to speak but her mind was racing, _those eyes...those strong arms...how brave he is…._ "Wow." her only reply.

"Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU!" Lucan said, still beaming with happiness. He took the claw into his hands appraising it, it was cold at the touch but still so beautiful. "I'm going to put this right back where it belongs, I won't forget this!"

He placed upon its private shelf that overlooked the shop counter, the claw once more being the shining ornament of the Riverwood Trader. Lucan then quickly remembered once more thing. He bends low to a small locked chest under his shop counter, pulling out a small coin purse. _800_ septims, that was the price he was secretly going to pay for someone to look for it or try to track the bandits down and by back from them, (Of course he wasn't going to tell Camilla that).

"Here take this, you've been a big help for my sister and me." he said.

Rohan raised his eyebrows at the sight of the coin. It was easy but still to be paid big for a job he did on a lark was a first for him.

"I wonder how you managed all those bandits, I know it wasn't easy." Lucan said.

Rohan playfully shrugged, "Handlings brigands isn't something new for me."

"I say I'm still quite surprised." said Lucan. "For what I've known about so far is that you help Alvor out at the smith and it was also you who fixed the mill recently too."

"Handling a swords, a hammer on an anvil or fixing a lumber mill is all in a day's work for me." said Rohan, not trying to boast yet still it came off so.

"You're a man good with your hands." Camilla spoke, low and softly.

Rohan picked up on the flirt, "I suppose you can say that." his locked into hers. Lucan could feel the awkwardness rising like the morning sun, Divines his sister was insufferable.

"Um….well is there anything else I can help you with?" Lucan spoke, cutting to his usual line with customers.

Rohan broke the seductive stares and back on to Lucan. "Actually yes you can help me." He still had something left in his bag.

Lucan's eyes went wide when Rohan put the stone slab onto his counter. "What..what is that?" Even Camilla was startled she looking closely over the counter.

"I got it from the Barrow." Rohan ceased the urge to tell the story about him fighting a shouting draugr to get it, as much as he wanted to for Camilla's favor.

Lucan put on a dwarven make loupe on his right eye, viewing the stone slab thoroughly. "I don't recognize the language." he said feeling the inscriptions etched in the rock with his fingers.

"It does not look Ayelid or Daedric." said Camilla, her going back on her studies on ancient Tamrielic languages and phonetics from her years of private tutoring back in Cyrodiil. "Perhaps Akaviri?" She said speaking to her brother, Lucan only shook his head while tapping his chin still looking at the stone tablet.

"No, something tells me that isn't quite exact. Its rare that's for certain. Where you looking to pawn it?"

Rohan shrugged his shoulders, "I'm trying to find out what it is before I do anything with it. Since I heard you had an inkling for rare ornaments." he gestured to the gold claw, "I was hoping you would know."

"You could possible have a sign that says _latrine_ for all I know." Lucan spoke.

"There's always Farengar." Camilla implied.

"Who?" Rohan asked.

"The court wizard in Dragonsreach at the capital of the Hold."

"NO!" Lucan interjected, "He can't go there."

Camilla folded her arms in a huff, "And why not?"

"One, you need a summon to go to the jarl's palace and two, he could get arrested for going into that ruin in the first place. There's a law about grave digging and disturbing the ancient dead here in Skyrim, you know how nords are."

Camilla paused for a moment, pondering her brother's point on the matter and hated to admit that he was right on that, "What were you doing in the barrow anyway?" she asked.

Rohan was a bit flushed by the question, he didn't wanted to tell the two trader siblings about his vivid dreams and faint sounds of whispers and other nonsense that could cause them to skeptically laugh. "The bandits, they were camped out in the barrow no doubt they were going to rob the place or use the tomb as a staging base and raid Riverwood, there was no telling so I had to stop them."

An easy explanation seemed logical to a point and he was vague on the details. "I could tell you all about some time."

"Perhaps over a drink?" Camilla asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling at him seductively.

"I still can't believe you'd take brigands on by yourself." said Lucan.

"Trust me." said Rohan, "I know how to handle myself in a fight."

"He did survived that dragon attack in Helgen brother." Camilla said teasingly.

"Well…" Lucan said, "I can't help with this stone here, and my darling sister is right." he grumbled at her before looking back at Rohan. "The court wizard is the only one that can help you."

"But you said I can't go the Dragonsreach without a summon from the jarl." Rohan interjected.

"Yes, but there's also Gerdur." said Lucan, "She's in charge of this village here as you know or... well she seems to be all though she doesn't like to. Well she happens to be only one authorize to write writs requesting the jarl's audience. You can ask her to help you out."

That seemed quite the fair solution for Rohan's case, although he knew Gerdur is busy at the mill at the moment and won't be free till later that evening. All well that didn't seem an issue, Rohan could wait then. For now he needed food and sleep, he'll wake come sundown and meet with the other villagers in the inn

* * *

As expected, when the sun was reaching treeline turning the sky into a burnt orange haze, the villagers of Riverwood would retire from chores and labor for the night. Hod would shut off the saw closing the mill, Alvor would cool the fires in his forge and put up his tools, other villagers would put the chickens in their pens and finish up kneading their crops. A nice aroma of roasted honey brewing with wheat would whaff out from the Sleeping Giant indicating the Delphine had a fresh brew stirring for the villagers to come and enjoy.

Soon the inn was packed with all those of Riverwood coming for a quick bite of roasted goat leg, sweet bread and of course tankards galore of mead.

Faendal had slipped out of the inn and away from the rabble of crowd, taking a back way to Camilla's. Sven was busy entertaining the crowd with his mediocre tunes of ballads, always the same shit about some warrior from Rorikstead who gets his head lopped. Never has Faendal ever heard someone sing the twenty versions of the same bullshit song, but Sven could make it happen. _"Divines...the culture in this hovel, if there even is any?!"_ Faendal would say to himself, thinking on it. But there was one shining blossom in this garden of mediocrity, one beautiful goddess and she Camilla Valerius. Her shining green eyes, thus luscious locks of dark brown hair that glimmer in the light and that shape of hers... _Mara's grace that body of hers._

He stopped behind her home, seeing a candle light in her small bedroom window indicating she was home. Faendal opened his mouth to speak but a jolt of nerves caught him midway for a beat until his throat started to hurt to a point he had to speak "Camilla?" he says almost croaking he swallowed and continued, "I didn't see you in the inn so I figured…" _Explaining yourself is dumb Faendal, just get to the point!_ "I've been meaning to talk to you earlier...I hope I'm not disturbing you its just that the poem I gave I was hoping to see if you liked it and.."

"Still with that same redundant elven shit, eh Faendal?" said a voice Faendal did not want to hear.

Sven came walking out of the outcasts shadows of the buildings and into the bright moonlight. "You writing her... _poetry_." Sven scoffed.

Faendal crossed his arms and sneered, "Better than the trash you holler out to the drunken rabble back at the tavern."

Sven only giggled, stepping closer to Faendal giving him a playful tap on the shoulder, "Oh Faendal you silly little bosmer." he teased, "When are you going to realize that that sweet succulent woman isn't interested in some frail elf such as you."

Faendal face morphed into sour disgust the nerve of this ass of a nord, "You think because I'm an elf she won't be interested in me!?"

"I think because you're a half wit is why she's not into you!" Sven retorted. "Women don't come to Skyrim to fuck elves! Especially elves who stink of wood rot and bear shit!"

"First of all you pissant! I only have that odor because I work at the mill, you know a REAL job!" Faendal fired back. "And second…"

Both the elf and the bard bickered back and forth while inside Camilla's bedroom she was ignoring the rambling outside and instead poured her and her guest another cup of brandy.

"I have to say." said Rohan, "That wood elf is rhapsodist. Such rhythmic and passionate verses he has of you." He says, setting the papers of poems down on the end table.

Camilla walked over carrying two small cups of liquor, her naked body gleaming like tan gold in the candle light as she steps over to him. "Mmmm." she purrs, "I know someone else who's quite _passionately rhythmic_ as well." Rohan took the cup for a sip, giving her a playful wink.

"As I always say, if one is a good bladesmen he can handle his _other_ bladesmenship ." Rohan said setting aside the glass.

"Lover and a fighter, my type." Camilla said, coming into the bed with him, her naked body pressed against his naked body, resting close enough for Rohan to take his calloused hand and caress her. "Funny, Sven thinks himself the same way." she said, running her finger through the muscled lines between the pecs of Rohan's chilsed chest.

Rohan snorted, "That bard makes me want to shove that lute down his throat or up his ass depending on what song he bellows out."

Camilla giggled, "Come now, Sven is fun."

"Bards are annoying." Rohan said rolling his eyes.

He reaches over taking another gulp of his brandy before setting it back down, now having his full attention on Camilla and the bodily gifts the Divines had given her. "Now as much as I want to talk about your wannabe boyfriends, I'd say the night is still young enough to have another tumble before your brother shows."

Camilla was finishing her cup of brandy as well and she smiled gingerly ready to embrace the burly nord before her. Rohan was on top pinning her and engulfed her mouth with a deep kiss, his hands exploring every part of her body from her chest to the lower bottoms. Camilla moaning deeply, she hoist herself onto him, wrapping her legs around him ready to take all he had in.

She broke from the kiss letting his mouth find her neck, "This time…" she whispers huskiley into his ear, "No breaks, lets keep going until we can't anymore…" she says eagerly. "I want you to give me everything...you've got."

Rohan was ready to oblige but just as he was ready to enter her, a bone chilling scream hollering from outside caused them both to cease their moment of passion.

The scream was so loud that chatter inside the packed tavern stopped and villagers from the tavern and some in their homes came bursting out to see the commotion, Gerdur being already there at the scene.

Two nord girls, one looking at least fourteen or fifteen the other no younger than six. Both were drenched in sweat due to miles of running, hot soot caked on their skin and their clothes looked to have been singe "H-HELP! PLEASE!" cried the teenage Riverwood villagers encircled the ragged two, eyes wide in bewilderment and terror.

"Delphine! Quick!" said Gerdur taking one of the girls by the shoulder and checking her body for injuries and other ailments, "Blankets, bandages and some water! Please!" Delphine gave assured nod and ran back inside the inn hollering at her assistant Orgnar to gather the supplies.

"What happened?!" Gerdur said. In a fit of tears the teenager explained, "It...it...burned everything...our farm….gone….my ma...my da…." she stopped in words, tears streaming down heavily as she tried to contain herself. The younger one began to wail

Gerdur was confused "What...what was it?" .

"DWAGAWN!" the younger girl cried.

Gasps echoed around the mass the crowd along with concerned murmuring, _"Dragon what?!"_ someone had said. _"Like Helgen?! But that was a rumor!"_ said another.

Gerdur quickly hushed the crowd. "A dragon attacked you?" she asked the girl.

The teenage girl nodded, "It flew over us like a racing shadow. I didn't know what it was first but then it had those great big wings and fire poured from its mouth and...Me and Abby just started running after pa told us to and..." Gerdur placed the tip of her hand over the girl's lips. She did not need the girl to finish to know the rest.

"Hush now." she says softly to the girl. Gerdur then called for her husband, "Hod! Get some pallets made for the girls and some stew." Hod assuringly nods his head and rushes over to their home. Delphine soon came out with the blankets with Orgnar following her with the bandanages and other supplies.

Rohan dashed outside, an unstrung lenin shirt over his body with short pants, Camilla herself in a small silk robe following outside to the see commotion. Both of them shocked to see the two young girls dirty with soot and shooken scared.

"What's happened?" Rohan says.

"Dragon attack." said Orgnar overhearing him. "From a farmstead north of the road."

A tinge of fear hit Rohan like a ram, memories of Helgen flashing before him. He rushes over to the two traumatized girls "Did it have black scales and red glowing eyes?" he says eager for an answer. "Come!" he snaps, "Tell me!"

The teenage girl was a bit lost for words, "...No….well I don't think so….it was….orange? I believe…" her words stuttered as she trembled while trying to look back on it. Delphine draped a blanket over her shoulders causing the girl to stop. "Let's get you and your sister indoors." she says motherly in a way. She then gave Rohan a glare. "They need healing and shelter _not_ an interrogation." she says almost snarling before leading the girls to Gerdur's home.

Rohan said nothing, realizing that she had a point and he was being a bit to harsh. But he had to know the dragon attack in Helgen didn't quite felt like a brush of danger in the wild. For the past weeks staying here, Rohan deep down felt that there was something more to the dragons sudden reappearance. And the great black wing demon he saw had something to do with it.

"Alright everyone, the nights over go home!" Gerdur called out trying to disperse the crowd but none yet stirred.

"What about the dragons!" said one villager.

"Yeah! Helgen was not far from here and those girls home wasn't too far neither, we're next!" said another.

"Riverwood is defenseless! We have no means of protecting ourselves!" that time it was Alvor speaking, yet not accusingly like the others just a deep concern.

More chatter began to rise up until Gerdur raised her hands quieting everyone to listen to her solution. "I know the Rivewood has no means to put up a fight with anyone, especially dragons and I assure you I will get to the bottom of resolving this issue."

"With what!?" said Lucan, along with other folk in the mass nodding their heads agreeing.

Gerdur raised her hands again for the noise to cease. "I'll send someone to the Jarl with a writ for an audience."

Scoff and huiffs of disdain echoed throughout the crowd.

"The jarl doesn't care about us! He'll hide behind those damn walls of his and do nothing about!" said someone.

"He sure as shit is good at hiding from this war! Why not he hide from a dragon as well!"

"I said SHUT IT!" Gerdur snapped. Utter silence hit. "Now." she continues this time softly spoken. "Jarl Balgruuf is a very cautious man but he's also a concerning one who cares about his Hold and his people within in it. He will not let any danger come to it, that is why I'm sure he'll listen."

A beat then the villagers began to murmur softly concurring with Gerdur's statement. "It's the only solution we have." said Alvor, speaking up. "We must trust Gerdur." Gerdur smiled at him slightly, nodding a thank you. Without another word the villagers left for their homes, some hoping to find sleep on this now restless night, others still not assured by Gerdur's suggestion yet still had no strength to argue a protest.

Rohan too was about to leave with the crowd, seeing not to follow Camilla _(for he was now not in the mood to finish what they started)_ but to master Alvor's and lady Sigrid's home on his bedroll in the basement. A hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks, it was Gerdur.

"Walk with me." She said quietly for no one else but Rohan to hear, he obligated her and followed. The two walking slowly towards her home.

"I need you to go to Dragonsreach, first thing at dawn." Gerdur said.

A tinge of joy had hit Rohan just a little, he had been planning to ask Gerdur if she could get him an audience with the jarl in ways to talk to the court mage about the slab he found in Bleak Falls Barrow. But still some nerved him to find out why she picked him to volunteer at this moment.

"Why me?" he asked, bewildered.

"You were at Helgen, you know better to what we were up against." Gerdur replied.

" _I know better?_ I was too busy running while men, women and children were being burned to death! Those two girls know just as much as I do."

"That's not what Ralof told me."

A beat. Rohan waited for her response.

"He told me the night before he departed back to Windhelm, that he said before the attack he saw that you had _sensed_ it coming."

A peculiar look dotted Rohan's face. "Sense it?"

"Yeah, you told him you could feel it coming."

Rohan's memory then jogged back to that moment and remembered. A surge of energy rising within his body at the sound of echoed wail in the sky, the dragon's call. The goosebumps dotted his skin and his heart began to race, he had completely forgotten at that time he was about to be executed.

"Then he saw the dragon approached you and right before it attacked it spoke to you." Gerdur finished. _"Mah deh sos tin dov….Mah deh joore...Av dilon."_ Rohan had almost forgotten those words the dragon spoke yet he shuttered it in the back of his mind as it eerily crept to him as such a bad memory does. "No." he said shaking his head, "It didn't speak to me." He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself.

Gerdur didn't press further on that subject. "Whatever happened. Still you have more experience with this matter and meaning only you can convince the jarl."

"You think I have political traction to convince a jarl to send soldiers?!" Rohan said with a laugh. "I'm an ex mercenary who got caught in events and almost had my head cleaved by the imperials!"

Gerdur put her hands on her hips, "So you're saying you won't do it?"

"No, I'll go to Whiterun I owe Riverwood that much but I'm saying don't expect a miracle. I've had bad experience with nobility in the past."

"Your past in Cyrodiil is your business and Jarl Balgruuf is different, he isn't like the other jarls you'll find in Solitude or Markarth. He talks to his people _directly_ and I have faith that you can tell him so of what troubles his Hold."

She then places a calm hand on his shoulder, "Talos guide you."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _This chapter was a little short but I wanted something a bit climatic to get Rohan the hell out of Riverwood. I just had a birthday so I was a little busy this past week and such. Hope you enjoyed it, I'm firing up the next chapter as you read this. Thanks for the reviews keep them coming. XO_


	9. Something Begins

_**A/N: Yes I know, took me long enough but this was long to write and I didn't expect it to be that long but it sort of just happened. Please excuse any spelling or grammar errors I type fast and sometimes a miss a few words or something like that. I do review them and correct them daily when I can.**_

* * *

Rohan departed from Riverwood as soon as the sun had raised high enough for light to travel. _"Take the market road north, you can't miss it, the city is in the middle of the valley."_ Gerdur had told him, her directions were true to the point. Just as he got from the treeline out of wood he could see the city of Whiterun with Dragonsreach perched on top of it all. It was a marvel to see the palace even at that distance, he couldn't wait to see it up close.

Getting to Whiterun was the easy part, getting _in_ was the challenging one. Once Rohan past the Hold's station of stables, a mass gathering of folks was circling near the first bailey gates. Camps set up with large numbers of tents and makeshift shacks. The looks on the people's faces, scared and desperate. There was only one type of people Rohan knew that looked that way...refugees.

The ongoing civil war had left many people with war-ravaged homes and with now the talks of dragons made some folk desperate to get behind city walls. Yet judging by the jarl's reputation for being over cautious a proclamation had been stated that the gates were to be closed limiting entry to the capital residents only. It made sense in a way, helping refugees as admirable as it may come with consequences. Straining of resources, mistrust between the local townspeople, a whole lot of shit to go sideways in an instant.

Making his way towards the outer bailey Rohan could see a khajiit merchant camp within the dense mass of people. Of course, khajiit trade caravans would be here, war makes quite the enterprise and khajiit had their feline senses for it. There Rohan saw them peddling supplies to desperate peasants. _No doubt at a higher price, supply, and demand as always._

Now at the forward gate, Rohan was stuck in the crowd of angry villagers, pushing his way to the front.

" _There's room in there!"_ someone in the crowd had shouted.

" _Balgruuf can't keep us out here, we'll die!"_

" _Please, there are children!"_

Guardsmen were at the front nudging people to move along. Rohan had finally pushed the last man from his path and was met with two angry guardsmen. Their yellow cloaks draped over their armor both carrying a shield emblazoned with a steed as Whiterun Hold's sigil. "Halt!" barked one from the muzzle of his closed helm. "Whiterun is closed due to the dragon menace and war campaigns! Official business only!"

Rohan hands the guard a fine piece of written parchment, "I have a writ from Riverwood signed by the village alderwoman. I seek an audience with the jarl in a request for aid."

Guard snorted a _hmph_ and open the parchment to check its legitimacy. Everything seemed to be in order, the signature looked legit and the writing flawless yet there was one problem. "Where's the seal?"

That made Rohan confused, "What?"

The guard pointed to the top page of the writ as to show that an ordained stamp was to be there. "A seal for us to know that this is a legal document. Any backwoods knuckledragger that can read and write can draw up a writ for the jarl."

" _Dammit! Gerdur must have forgotten that or this was just a new type of protocol."_ Rohan drummed up.

"Look this document is legitimate, Riverwood seeks aid for the dragons."

"Ha!" laughed the other guard, "You think Riverwood is only one with problems, Rorikstead came weeks ago barking up need for troops. I'll save you the trouble with the jarl... clear off! We've got none to spare to the hamlets."

Rohan could not leave, he could not return to Riverwood to tell them the villagers that he was turned away at the door, he couldn't disappoint Gerdur or Alvor so, he owed them that much. _"I have faith in you."_ is what Gerdur said to him.

And as he looked back on it, he did not relent on the guard's gestures to move along. "Look I'm not planning to ask for something for nothing."

"Is that so…" said one guard folding his arms.

"I have information for Jarl Balgruuf. Information that he might think would be useful with the dragon attacks. You see I was in Helgen when it happened."

"You were in Helgen?" scoffed the other guard.

"What were you doing there? Just traveling? You know how many fools come here saying they were at Helgen!?"

"But I'm being honest I…" Rohan took a beat watching his words carefully. He did not want to tell them that he was only at Helgen cause those damned Imperials were trying to execute, that would paint him as a criminal. "I was just staying there for some time."

The guard did not believe him. The fellow wasn't the only fool who came to Whiterun looking a for a home and handout. And he certainly wasn't going to be the last.

"Really?" spoke the guardsman, a little test coming to mind to see if this stranger spoke the truth. "You see I had a cousin there. Vilod, he didn't make it out."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Perhaps you heard of him, damn good brewer he was made a special mead that he was going to peddle into a business. Anyone who's been at Helgen knows the mead I'm talking about." he continued, "Slow roasted honey, he kept honeycombs in it to soak, with a few bits of wheat, a touch of butter, whey, and…"

"Juniper Berries," Rohan said, casual yet surprising to himself. The guard was silent for a moment but then looked to his partner and then back at Rohan, eyes squinting through the visor of his helmet trying to get a read onto the stranger before him.

* * *

Balgruuf hated the weather, the clouds were a gloomy gray, stretching over the valley. A very ominous not so springy vista for rthe ain to come, just a dry breeze. It gave such a dark hollow feel to him, as if it was just an echo of death and sorrow all to this damned war. Skyrim was at it ends. And the weather was spoiling his lunch. An irritable thought came to him as he remembered his advisors badgering him to enjoy himself this noon time. " _Go outside…"_ they say, _"The spring air is nice."_

 _Pfft!_ Nothing was improving his mood not even the damn food.

The ham was too salty and he barely touched the leeks that were earlier hot and steamy now a lukewarm, stale texture. He didn't bother with the freshly picked fruit laid out before him on a platter and declined an offer of fresh baked sweet rolls that Gerda had just finished baking. Instead, the jarl took one last gulp of his wine finishing it, his young cupbearer holding a pitcher quickly went to the table to refill his chalice but Balgruuf waved the lad off, getting up from the table onto his feet.

Irileth was standing in the shadows, her way of keeping watch of her liege without looming over him as he eats. As Balgruuf passed her, she steps out following him to the door. "No vegetables?" she teased.

Balgruuf grumbled before he spoke, "I don't like leeks, I've told Fianna and Gerda both that I don't like them."

"You should eat them regardless, don't want you getting plump. You're not a soldier anymore so swinging your sword to keep in shape doesn't happen as often." the dunmer woman replied.

Balgruuf rolled his eyes. Always the mother hen she was.

"Since you finished your lunch early Proventus would be pleased. We can begin the coming meeting, he so desperately wants to squander your time with imperial bullshit as usual."

Balgruuf groaned Irileth continued.

"And then there's Hrongar now doubt in another useless attempt to pressure you to engage in the effort against Ulfric's incursion."

Another breathless groaned. They were coming to the throne room where court was always held.

"Those two really going to badger me about the war?" said Balgruuf almost hoping not to be true yet knowing it was. He took a seat on his throne. "After many times I've denied them!?"

Irileth folded her arms leaning on her hip, she snorted a grin giving Balgruuf a very _"Well duh!"_ look.

And right on cue, as Balgruuf's bottom touched the chair, Proventus and Hrongar came waltzing from whatever hovel that held themselves in within the palace and right into Balgruuf's sight. The two looked to have been arguing amongst themselves barely noticing the jarl.

"You may be a worm who sticks his arse in the air and submits defeat to avoid conflict Proventus but I'm a man who faces his enemies dead on." Hrongar spoke booming in a sense of arrogance that only a nord of his stature could.

Proventus had a sour look on his face, offended by the blithering brute's insult. "So planting our forces on the border to Eastmarch is a grand idea? I"m sure Ulfric wouldn't mind that at all, no retaliation to worry about. Quite the war strategist you are Hrongar."

Hrongar snorted "At least I know how to carry a sword. Unlike you, yet I hear that pretty daughter has a better swing, I guess mettle skips a generation!"

That was the last straw, Proventus went into an angry hiss "KEEP MY FAMILY OUT OF YOUR MOUTH! YOU BLITHERING-

"I'm so glad my two _favorite_ advisors are discussing plans for my Hold without me!" Balgruuf interjected.

"Forgive me my lord!" said Proventus apologetically. "Just having a little debate with your brother on war strategum, I would never overtake your authority."

Balgruuf rolled his eyes not wanting nor needing Proventus's apology, he glances at Hrongar who only grumbled and crossed his arms. A meathead as always that one.

Balgruuf looked to him "If you so desperately want to join the fight against Ulfric dear brother, Solitude is but a day's ride away. Tullius is always looking for nords to throw their lives away at something pointless."

"Pointless!?" said Hrongar. "Brother forgive me but I disagree, Ulfric tearing the land apart for his selfish ambition isn't something worthless to defend against! And you shouldn't ignore it!"

"And why not?!" Balgruuf fired back, "Ulfric wants to be High King but he can't just win it by killing other nords, the Moot decides on that final note. Yet the Moot can't convene with the Empire sticking their noses into our business! We could easily handle this matter on our own hands yet those dunces in the Gold Tower think themselves the sovereign of our lands and fiddle their fingers into everything we're doing."

"They're only taking matters into their hands because they fear a retaliation." said Proventus like any imperial he defended his homeland's government.

"Of whom? The elves!? You think I'm truly afraid of the damn Thalmor!? They're laughing back at Summerset Isle you know. They're just overjoyed at the sight of this!

Skyrim is tearing itself apart, Hammerfell is near gone, and High Rock is useless as usual and I don't think Morrowind is sparing any tears of the Empire collapsing especially with that volcano still blaring off! Cyrodiil can barely hold anything together and the Aldmeri Dominion is merely regaining their strength to do the finishing blow to Talos's legacy. One final spit into the face of the ninth divine."

"But my jarl think on the subject at hand." said Proventus. "It's come down to two people, Elisif or Ulfric. Unless you wish to put your candidacy forward?"

"Pfft!" Balgruuf snorted, "Don't be ridiculous."

"But he's right." said Hrongar, surprisingly agreeing with Proventus. "That idiot Siddgeir only cares about mead, women, and hunting, and then you have Korir a daft twit who think those mages are out to get him! Old decrepit Skald who nearly shits himself before noon! Laila _the law giver_ who's too stupid to understand irony!"

"Then there's Idgrod being borderline fucking senile." mumbled Irileth for everyone to hear.

"Also Igmund who's shit he pulled with the Forsworn by dragging in Ulfric into it, lead us to this conflict in the first place!" Hrongar finished, "Think on it brother, Ulfric and Elisif are our only choice."

Balgruuf only sneered slumping into his throne with a hard look on his face as he addles in thought. He didn't trust them, the other jarls. Not the ones who gladly grovel to the Empire's bellyaching. Letting those damn elves marching through freely and tear away folk from their homes. A dishonor to the gods and our ancestors. And then there those daft fools who blindly follow Ulfric as he pillages their lands for every resource they can barely scrounge up to support his little war campaign. He's known Ulfric years, _Ulfric giving a skeever's ass for Skyrim's well being?_ _Oblivion already came here once, there's no sense of believing it can happen twice._

Balgruuf saw bigger shit from Ulfric than the mounds found in the valley from mammoth herds.

" _Damn them…"_ he spat inside his mind. _"Damn the milk drinkers and knuckle draggers."_ Balgruuf only had _one_ concern and that was Whiterun.

"So…" Balgruuf began pinching his brow trying to calm his nerves yet his mind was still racing. "Is anyone gonna talk about the dragons or are we just going to keep bickering over this blasted war?"

That question made Proventus shot up in fear, "Dragons?! We've still had no conclusion with the Helgen inquiry and…."

"Those people who are outside of the town gates are a conclusive answer to me Proventus!" Irileth said, remembering it was his idea to leave those folk out to dry. Oh, how she loathed how much of a sniveling politician he could be. Proventus only gave her a look, not bothering to answer her interjection.

"Isn't Farengar suppose to be looking into this dragon problem brother?" Hrongar said remembering it was the court wizard whom Balgruuf put in charge of running how own little special counsel.

"Nothing yet, but still...something has to be done." said Balgruuf running his hand along his long beard as if in deep thought.

Proventus stepped forward to speak with the jarl closely. "My lord please…" he began. "You have to listen. I only counsel caution. We can't afford to act out of hand in times like these. If the news of Helgen is true… well, there's no telling what it means."

"What would you have me do...nothing!?"

"My lord please, this is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act. I just…."

"Who's this then?"

Balgruuf didn't notice the man before until now. He was just standing there. A nord, a young man with a light stubble of a beard, with stocky shoulders and an athletic physique, dark-haired unlike most of their kinsmen yet with bright crystal blue eyes. He was carrying a large sack which was slung over his shoulder.

Irileth already had pounced on him. How embarrassing it was for her, she was too distracted from Proventus and Hrongar's damnable bitching that she didn't even notice the stranger being _that_ close to her liege.

Her sword was already drawn and was an inch away from the young nord's neck, he didn't flinch just had his eyes set on her's.

* * *

Dragonsreach was extraordinary inside as it was outside, so wide and spacious it was. A signifying motif of how open the Whiterun plains were within the hold. Rohan just mesmerized by its majesty yet he wasn't expecting the hostile response he was now receiving from the dunmer who's sword end was so close at his throat

"What's the meaning of this!?" she snarled, "Jarl Balgruuf isn't expecting any visitors!"

"I've come from Riverwood, the mill village off the White River and I have urgent news for his lordship the jarl of Whiterun."

"I represent the Jarl and his court, if you have something to say to him then you can say to me?"

"I didn't come all this way here for information be pass down, I aim to speak to the jarl directly!" Gerdur entrusted him on getting them the defenses they need and he was going to do it, he could care less what this woman thought.

The dunmer only squinted her red eyes at Rohan glaring at him. "I don't think so!" she growled, "Very suspicious of you to seem to think you can get an audience with the jarl so quickly, I'm started to think…"

"It's okay Irileth! I want to hear what he has to say!" the jarl called out.

The woman only squared her jaw and slowly sheathed her blade stepping out of Rohan's path.

"I've got my eye on you."

He heard her say as he walked past.

Rohan stepped at the foot of the steps where the jarl's throne was perched and nodded his head showing a sign of respect to the jarl's authority, not much of a bow but this was Skyrim, not Cyrodiil so manners of nobility were treated quite differently here.

"What's this about Riverwood being in danger?" Balgruuf spoke a genuine sense of concern in his voice.

"Yes...my jarl," said Rohan. "An attack on a farmstead a few miles east ways happened recently and with Helgen not far from there as well, the villager alderwoman has asked for at least a contingent of guardsmen as a means for defense."

"Ridiculous!" Proventus said, "You think we're gonna spare a complement of soldiers for that little hamlet?!"

"That's not for you to decide steward!" Irileth cut in she was walking steadily to her place back at her jarl's side.

"Listen, I was at Helgen, I've seen a dragon attack first hand. Riverwood would be utterly destroyed if a dragon were to attack there."

Jarl Balgruuf raised a brow. "You were at Helgen huh?"

"Yes, my jarl. I fled to Riverwood in midst the chaos, the villagers there helped me a great deal. If not for them I don't know what I'd do."

"And so you are here." Balgruuf said running his hand through his beard. "Seeking aid for them, a resourceful fellow you seem to be."

"My jarl…" said Irileth briefly cutting in, "We should detachment to Riverwood at once, it is in the utmost danger."

Proventus only looked to his jarl as a means to plead for him to agree. Putting soldiers at Riverwood giving that the proximity of the village is on the border to Falkreath Hold would be most unwise. "The jarl of Falkreath would take this as a provocation! He'll assume we've taken Ulfric's side to attack him we must not….."

"Enough! I will not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" Balgruuf boomed.

The entire throne room went silent, the jarl only speaking. "Irileth send a detachment to Riverwood at once." the jarl spoke again calmly.

Irileth bowed her head briefly, "Yes my jarl."

Conceding to his defeat Proventus bowed his head stepping away, "If you may, I will return to my duties."

"Yes, that would be best." Balgruuf shooed his steward away, his temper had already flared up for a brief moment earlier and didn't want to be tested again.

"You there…" Balgruuf's attention was then at Rohan. "What are you called?"

"Rohan, my lord."

"You from Helgen Rohan?"

"No sir, Chorrol."

That was surprising being that he was a nord but it confirms where he got that soft southern dialect in his accent from, "Cyrodiil?" Irileth said, "In Skyrim to visit family?"

Rohan shook his head, "No I have no living relatives that I know of, I was orphan as a babe."

"Then what brings you to Skyrim?" Balgruuf asked. A question Rohan himself kept asking.

"To travel I guess, I've never truly got toknow the land of my ancestors." A good enough explanation though Rohan truly felt that that wasn't the exact case.

"Getting to know your homeland ha!" Balgruuf laugh, "I'm guessing you're getting goa od sense of it with all politics and horker shit going on."

"Aye true, I... _saw_ the execution of the stormcloaks, the imperial was just about to execute Ulfric as well."

"So the rumors were true!" Irileth said, "Ulfric was there during the attack!"

"Of course Tullius would leave that out in his official report!" Balgruuf said, "Executing someone without trial? But still I, 'm not surprised Ulfric would be caught up in this."

"We cannot fault Tullius for his desperation my jarl." Proventus spoke sitting at a small table scribbling in his little book. "Ulfric _murdered_ Torygg right in his castle, there no telling what else he was capable of."

"So that justifies Tullius's disregard for imperial custom?" Irileth interjected. "Murderer, rouge, call him whatever he is still a citizen of this Empire and a veteran of her army. And we have laws, codes, _tenets_. An execution belayed of trail is a rather vulgar display of authoritarianism on Tullius's part and such an act wouldn't quite endear the local nords to his cause. Not to mention it would be quite the acquisition for the stormcloaks."

Proventus raised an eyebrow.

"What she means is that killing Ulfric in such a way would martyr him proving his words about the Empire supposed hold over Skyrim true., a dumb move on Tullius's end." Hrongar said.

"Still" Balgruuf, "We're getting off the main subject matter." He then looked to Rohan.

"As I said before my jarl, a dragon came just moments before...the execution and I fled amongst the chaos." Rohan said. A beat. His mind trailed back on that loathed memory, "I can still see that dreaded sky…" he murmured. "Grey and red, fire and death, around me, in the air."

A cold desolate silence illuminated the room as the people listened to Rohan continue, "Men, women and children screaming. Running out of their blazing homes some covered flames themselves….others desperate to escape, bodies every…"

"It's okay son." Balgruuf raised a hand not wanting to hear another word. "You need not to continue."

Rohan's eyes flashed with sudden realization. "There's also one other thing my jarl." He pulled the sack from his shoulder with a solid thud to the floor.

The jarl and his counsel looked on and watched as the young man pulls out a medium sized stone slab from the burlap. He cradled close enough for them all to see. "What is that?" said Proventus, looking at the rather strange etchings on the slab's face not recognizing the language.

"I have no idea." said Rohan, "But heard that your court wizard is an expert in these type of extremities."

Balgruuf ran his fingers through his beard studying the slab with a squint. "Where did you get this?"

"From Bleak Falls Barrow."

Proventus eyes shot up with disgust and anger, "You went through a nordic tomb?! What in the Oblivion is wrong with you boy?!"

"There's is a strict penalty for such offenders!" Irileth snarled.

"You shame your ancestors by walking into their place of eternal rest!?" Hrongar barked.

"Enough!" Balgruuf said raising his voice a little. "Tell me Rohan." he says now speaking calmly, "Why shame your forefathers walking amongst the honored dead?"

"There were bandits in the tomb. Helping some grave robber." Rohan said. "No doubt having bandits camped so close to Riverwood spelled trouble and with no guard detachment I went to disperse them myself."

"You'd face an entire legion of bandits to help that little hamlet?" scoffed Proventus, not believing a single word.

Rohan looked straight at him, offended. "Given for what they've done for me after Helgen, I'll do anything for them, that's why I'm here."

"He doesn't seem like the grave robbing type." Balgruuf said getting to his feet. The jarl walked up Rohan circling him as he studied the young lad. Tall, muscular, calloused hands shows that he uses them often. "You seem like a man who can handle himself in a fight."

"I was a mercenary in Cyrodiil." Rohan said.

"A sellsword." Irileth snorted to herself, "There's no other kind."

"Hmmm." Balgruuf ran through his beard once more. "I think I can find some use with someone of your particular talents." He then looked his steward and housecarl, "Where is Farengar?"

"Where else would he be?" said Irileth, "Buried in his books and scrolls, experimenting on Azura knows what to be too busy to attend the daily court meeting."

Of course, he is. "Follow me."

Balgruuf lead Rohan away from the rabble of the throne room to an isolated part of the palace main hall where a private office was stationed. The office was separated to a fact that one lonely guard took post at the door. The laggard guardsmen who was once leaning against the wall with eyes near shut, stood abruptly upright in attention as Balgruuf neared the door.

Balgruuf brushed past him entering the office with Rohan following in.

There was barely light in the room as Rohan entered, the only beam of glow resonating from the brazier that bore fire in a corner. Though dim there was light enough to show a disheveled mage's quarters. Walls were lined with books among shelves a mounted troll's skull, a large jar containing a mummified chaurus, a fossilized falmer ears. Along with these oddities were a long desks with scattered notes, ripped book pages, scrolls and to what looks to be the limb of some spriggan with paste of unknown mash spilled about from a mortar evidence of alchemy experiment gone wrong or undone. Philters containing mixes of potions and other strange brews, an enchanting table with unfinished runes and crushed soul gems. One mundane feature of this bedraggled laboratory was the plate of a half eaten bread loaf and goat's cheese, with a cup of near empty alto wine.

"Farengar!" Balgruuf called out. Rohan didn't notice at first due to the dark but then saw a slender man draped in robe turn over to see them. The mage had his attention to a large map of Skyrim's nine holds that posted on a board before him.

Stepping closer to them for Rohan could see his features more, Rohan could saw that the mage was a nord, young possibly the same age as Rohan. Nothing to appealing about except his boney face that his nose slightly peeped out from his hood and the great thick red sideburns that nearly covered his cheeks.

"My jarl!" Farengar says greeting them with a bright smile.

"I think I found someone to help you with your dragon project." Balgruuf said waving his hand to Rohan's direction as the young warrior stepped forward. "This is Rohan he's a survivor of Helgen.." Rohan simply bowed his head as a greeting.

"Ah a new brawny built sellsword you've to send my way it seems." said Farengar folding his arms. Balgruuf noticed the disdain in the mage's tone yet he took no offence, almost that is.

"Forgive me for my idle attempts of academic progress." Balgruuf said mockingly, "But I can't summon your former colleagues from Winterhold by the snap of my fingers contrary to belief ."

Before Farengar could interject Balgruuf looked to Rohan and spoke, "Show him."

On command, Rohan took the sack he was holding from his shoulder and out slid a stone slab that landed on top of Farengar's notes with a thunk.

The mages bushy eyebrows raised in surprise and excitement at once.

"I found this in Bleak Falls." Rohan spoke, "I was told you might know what this is."

"The...the Dragonstone!" gasped Farengar. "The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! How did you...where did you…."

"It would take a while to tell the whole story." said Rohan feeling exhausted by the memories itself.

Farengar begins to scurry around his lab, sliding off papers and books from his desk to make room for the stone then rushing off to look for something on his shelves and cases. "A story I must hear later than." he says, "For now I must conduct the finishes of my little project."

That was Balgruuf's cue to leave for he did not wish to linger on with the mage's queer activities. "Duties to attend." was the reason he stated while taking his leave, Rohan however decidedly remained. He was the one who found the damn slab, and survived that mess Helgen. It seemed his right to see this through and get some answers.

Farengar showed no objection, "Please, sit." he said the mage then went to a small cupboard where it contained bottles but not of potions but of liquor. A private reserve of his. "I know it might be to early but the sun is setting somewhere right?" said Farengar holding a bottle of something of a light mix shade of burgundy and brown. Always happy for a drink, Rohan smiled and nod. Farengar poured him three fingers in a small cup.

It was a delightful taste of brandy when Rohan took a sip. "Colovian." Rohan recognizing the brand.

"Ahhh, someone knows his southern spirits." Farengar said. "Now back to the topic at hand. Bleak Falls Barrow."

Rohan takes another sip of his brandy, nodding his head for Farengar to continue.

"Do you know the legend of it?"

Rohan shook his head, "Can't say I have."

"Well let me ask you another question, do you know of the stories when dragons once ruled these lands."

Rohan looked back to ponder, "I have heard some stories about it, in the ancient times shortly after Ysgramor's conquest that the dragons ruled Skyrim the way tyrants have until they were defeated by the nord tongues."

"Gormlaith, Felldir and Hakon." Farengar said speaking of the ancient nord heroes that fought in what was known to be the Dragon War. "Now during the time of the dragon reign, there were some nords who worshipped the dragons as religious deities, cults. You do know of the dragon priests yes?"

Rohan shook his head as a _maybe_ "Again I'm no history quirk, but I believe I have heard of the term. To the point, if we can." he says to Farengar rushing him. Farengar continued.

"Well those who had to serve the dragons were buried in crypts of their own apart from honored dead, Bleak Falls was one them. And there was one such buried by the name of Skjall the Unyielding. A warrior who served the dragon cults and later _keeper of the stone._ "

"What is the dragonstone exactly?" Rohan asked. Farengar took a beat then quickly went for a book and parchment showing a diagram. "I'm not sure exactly but my hypothesis says its a map."

"A map of what?"

"Dragon burial sites."

"What?"

Farengar sensed the doubt coming from the burly nord. "Now hear me out, what I'm about to share to you is confidential information per say but you did get me the dragonstone and are a survivor of Helgen so…"Rohan raised an eyebrow, doubt still resonating from him.

"I have a _colleague_ you might say that has an inquiry on why dragons are suddenly showing up."

"Go on."

"Well, this colleague believes that dragons aren't _coming back_ like how you would come back from holiday but _coming back to life_ per say."

"Coming back to life?" Rohan said. "Like some necromancy shit?"

"No! Magic is involved yes but not how we would use magic."

"Then how?"

Farengar once again goes to another table, this time getting a piece of paper, showing it to Rohan. It was a detailed sketch of a dragon, its features showed of spiky scales with jagged teeth and deep colored eyes.

"Was this the dragon that attacked Helgen?"

A tinge of fear hallowed within Rohan, he said nothing on blankly staring at the sketch nodding his head.

"This dragon is called the World-Eater. Ever heard of the tales?"

"Alduin?" Rohan said remembering a passage he read on about the Dragon War. The great dragon that lead the other dragons against the rebellious nords."Isn't it said he's Akatosh incarnated or something?"

Farengar looked offended by that question. "What?! No!" he said. "That's just hogwash some so called _shit brained_ imperial priest deduced back in Cyrodiil. The nord legend, the _true_ legend states that he is in fact an essence of Akatosh but not the Divine of Time himself but of that his first born child."

"Child?"

"All dragons are the children of Akatosh. He himself is depicted as a dragon that you should know right?"

"Yes I know he's some sort of spirit dragon. But all and all, the gods are…"

"Not something interesting to you yes." Farengar finished.

"I apologize for ignorance on the subject but I like to learn a thing or to about this." Rohan said, "Perhaps I can watch you conduct your little project or whatever?"

Farengar seemed enthused. "Would you like to?"

"Yes, but to be honest I'm merely waiting for the jarl wrap up his other matters so I can get my reward...and finish your brandy." Rohan says pouring himself another cup.

Farengar sighed but waved it off, "So long as you don't distract me." Rohan raised his cup assuring the mage that he'd be quiet yet observant little scholar to be.

* * *

 _-Whiterun/Western Watchtower_

"Roll again!" barked Tor he angrily looked at Tharn and back at the dice on the table.

"You calling me a cheat!?" Tharn says offended.

"A cheat is a merchant who sells you a lame cow for a pouch of rotted wheat, I'm calling you a true son of a whore! Those dice are loaded!" Tor roared.

Tharn says nothing, glaring back at his fellow watchmen with a furrowed brow and simply scoop up the dice with his cup once more, "Seven." he says then slams the cup down.

Tor looked at the dice and smile went on his face, "It's Eight! The gods favor me truly!" He says before childishly dances around. Tharn rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"I've never seen someone so happy in winning _two_ septims." spoke the lead watchman Hroki, he was looking through a window testing out his new spyglass.

"That's enough for him a to buy half a tankard at the Mare." Tharn laughed.

"Going to the Bannered Mare for any reason is always good." Tor says with a giggle.

Tharn nods his head nonchalantly cleaning up the dice for another round, "The ale's not bad there."

"He's not talking about the ale." Hroki says giggling fiendishly.

Tharn halts in shaking the cup, devilish smile paints across his face, "Let me guess, Olfinia?"

"Gray-Mane? She's fine looking and all but I'd rather not deal with that family of hers." said Tor. "It's that redguard lass, the one that started working the tables last summer."

"Saadia. Hur-hur." Hroki chuckled. "Her name sounds like a desert flower."

"She got quite the _curve_ if you know what I mean." Tharn laughed, back to his game he went. "Four."

"A woman like that don't need to be laboring mead in some inn." said  
Tor shaking his cup, "She needs a man. Six" he called out.

Their cups slam down, "What you?" said Tharn, he wins. "You already have a wife."

"Shut it!" Tor spat.

"I know what I got my eyes on." says Hroki. The other two set their dice once again.

"If its Carlotta I'm already going to tell you, don't waste your time." says Tharn, "Half of the garrison already tried, that woman would set your straight before you can says hello, six."

"I call." says Tor irritated.

"I was thinking Ysolda." said Hroki turning to them.

"I hear she likes cats." said Tharn. He and Tor slam down their cups.

"So?" says Tor, "My daughter has a cat. What lass doesn't?"

"He means Khajiit you dolt!" said Hroki. "And that's just a rumour. Not like there's any in the city for her romp with."

"There outside the gates where all those refugees camped at." said Tor, he and Tharn reveal their dice where Tharn wins again. Tor slams a fist on the table, "Gods damn you!"

"I thought you said they favor you." Tharn says with a sinister grin.

"You've enchanted them! Use some magic or something!" Tor accuses.

The youngest of the watch Ari enters the tower after the patrolling the outer bailey with the other guards.

"Ignore those two blobtits." says Hroki regarding Tor and Tharn who were now arguing. "Out to the top?"

Ari nods his head, "Aye sir, its quiet on the southern side of the bailey."

"This is the _western_ tower lad." said Hroki with a laugh, clasping the boy's shoulder "Everything is quiet here. When you head up there tell old bastard Leif that he's to do logistics for tonight's watch."

"Yes sir." says Ari with a smile.

"Take this." Hroki hands Ari his spyglass, "You can give it back to me when I head to up to take your watch."

"Th..thanks sir!" stammers Ari, taken aback by the lead watchman's kindness.

"Hroki please, you're not at Whitewatch, there's no need for military banter." said Hroki patting Ari's shoulder again before seeing him off.

Atop the tower, the air was much more arid and cool. There the lone watch man Leif, a rusty veteran of the guard leans a bit back in his chair near sleep. Ari sees the old man dozing off and coughs a little loudly to wake him.

Leif stutters up, "Huh...what?!"

"It's my turn to take watch." said Ari timidly, Leif grumbles to himself as he sits up in his chair.  
"Also" continued Ari, "Captain Hroki says you're to tally rations for tonight's watch."

"PAH!" Leif spat, "Wants to make sure we have enough mead for them to drink themselves stupid." He grumbles getting to his feet. "I've been in the guard longer than Hroki and the rest of them, what kind of captain is he?!" he begins dusting off the small flakes of crumbs from an earlier snack of bread along with fixing his armor. "I told Caius that I was fit for the front at Whitewatch but what does that damned imperial know!?"

Ari decided to interject, "To be honest." he says, "Why would anyone want to be at Whitewatch tower? It's on the border with enemy territory." Ari spoke to true to the notion. Whitewatch tower was a garrison on the border to the Pale, Jarl Skald of Dawnstar's territory an avowed supporter of Ulfric. Rebel movements are frequent in that region and so were a few imperial skirmishes reported. Thus Jarl Balgruuf appointed a full military garrison, wanting tight control upon that border, limiting refugee migration _(though some still managed to pass)_ as well as imperial and or stormcloak envoys.

"You're young and stupid so I doubt you'll understand." said Leif. He glances at the young boy and kind of almost felt a small sense of regret of insulting him by the look of the lad's now dampened face. Leif sighed, "I've lost count of the years I've been serving the Hold, during the Great War I was injured in a skirmish at the during the first bouts with the Thalmor therefore I missed most of it. When I recovered I joined the guard, hoping to lead small squads to dispatch bandits or what not.

But instead...it hasn't been most fulfilling. Now here we have this damn civil war and instead of fighting I'm wasting with what years I have left watching merchants travel from the south while guards drink and play games."

"Yeah I know how you feel." said Ari. Leif looked to him bewildered.

"Well, I understand that is." Ari corrected. "Both of my brothers joined the legion and are fighting in the war, just as our da did to fight the elves, except he died in the fighting. My ma didn't want me joining the army but I didn't want to sit at home and do nothing while our homeland is in chaos. So I joined the guard, she still doesn't like it but here at the Western Watchtower things are simple and I tell her not to worry."

Leif nods coming to understanding as well. "This war is killing the young and foolish, perhaps I shouldn't be so foolish as well." he begins to walk off, "Well I better get started on…."

A loud wail echoed from the sky that cause both Leif and Ari to halt. Utter silence beckons, nothing but wind shaking the trees were heard.

"What was that?" Ari says, he looked to Leif and judging by the old guard's wrinkled stoned face he could tell that Leif heard it too. "A mammoth maybe?"

"That didn't sound like a mammoth." said Leif coldly.

Ari looked to the guards who patrolling the ramparts below, none seemed unfazed. "Or maybe it was just-

A roar echoes loud as if something was coming towards them. That caused the guards below to stop in the tracks and look up to see where that noise was coming from.

Leif snatches the spyglass from Ari's person and looked through it towards the sky through a thin layer of clouds to upon where he sees a great flying shadow looming and growing larger as if something was coming towards them, his face once stern and hallow now morphed into utter fear. "Sound the horn...now." he says in a low deep tone.

"Wha….what is it?!" Ari stutters.

"SOUND THE DAMN HORN!"

A much louder roar hallows out, Ari then suddenly looked up in time to see the great winged beast flies over. Snatching his horn from the belt of his tunic and blows loud. Signaling the alarm of an attack.


	10. To Arms!

"FARENGAR!" Rohan was awaken out of his semi-brandy induced sleep at the sound of the dunmer housecarl Irileth barging the door open in a thundering slam whereas Farengar who was unaware of Rohan's sleeping was in mid-speech of a sudden came to mind hypothesis when Irileth came barging in.

"You need to come at once!" the dunmer hollered in her commanding volume, "A dragon has been sighted nearby!" Her dark eyes then shot in Rohan's direction, "You should come too!"

Rohan was taken aback of the sudden request _Me?_ Before he can utter a word of protest, Farengar had already dashed from his side of the desk following Irileth out "A dragon!" the mage beamed, "How exciting where was it seen? What was it doing?"

"I'd take this a bit more serious if I were you." said Irileth, "If a dragon had decided to attack Whiterun I don't know if we can stop it." she says grimly.

Rohan followed as well in sheer reluctance of course, cursing to himself for staying around to long. _"Just had to stay for that fucking brandy did ya?"_

Irileth lead them to what Jarl Balgruuf called his _'War Room'_ a study of hall with tall bookshelves, a large map of Tamriel framed on the wall, displays of rare relics of armor and weaponry, with a great table that had a map of Skyrim. Coming to where the table was Rohan could see marked territories showing spheres of influence within Skyrim's realm in a red/blue scheme. _"Balgruuf may be keeping out of the war…"_ Rohan wondered. _"But he sure was keeping track of it."_

Rohan's attention left the display on the table and to the scene before him. There Balgruuf stood, arms cross his deep scowl set into his brow with Proventus standing at his side with fear addled caution. The steward's face froze with terror and nervousness as he and his liege looked on to the shook guardsman.

A lad no more than eighteen by the looks, his hair was a deep red that was moist in sweat and drooped down into his face like a mop. He was covered in soot that caked to him from all the perspiration, his armor torn and dirted, and his chest heaved as tried to control his breathing but the wideness in his eyes showed his terror he was enduring from within.

Balgruuf had finally spoke, "So, Irileth told me you've came from the Western Watchtower?" The young guard did not speak only nods his head, his mind was still whirling in a storm. Irileth step close to his side and put a consoling hand on his shoulder for a moment, "Tell him what you told me." she said softly, easing to him to calm his nerves.

" _...The horn bellows Leif pushing you out of way of the creature's grasps... it grabs him instead throwing him in the air then catching him with its mouth, it circles back... fire pouring from its maw burning those in the southern bailey to black bodies...you run...you found a horse and you kept going hearing the screams echo out from behind….."_

"Y...Yes my lord." the boy finally spoke "It came...from the south….it was fast...faster than anything I have ever seen….I never ran so fast in my life….I thought it would come after me for sure…."

Rohan knew what that boy was going through, he recognize that look. Not long ago, he himself went through such a terror. The utter fear and amazement of witnessing such power from a beast and the utter disbelief of what was witnessed. His own memories of hearing the screams and the smell of smoke and death began reemerge and haunt his nerves.

Balgruuf stepped closer and like Irileth placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, "What's your name lad?"

"Ari." the guard says in a harsh waspy voice. His eyes still blankly staring away.

"Good work son." said Balgruuf patting him. "We'll take it from here, head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it." The boy bows his head and slowly drags his feet away.

"Irileth." said Balgruuf snapping his eyes to her, "You better gather some men and head down there."

"I already ordered my men to muster near the main gate." said Irileth.

"Good." said Balgruuf nodding, "Don't fail me." He then turns to Rohan who he can see was quite uneasy. "There's no time to stand on ceremony my friend, but I'm need of your assistance."

"What would you have me do my jarl?" said Rohan sounding unsure yet in the back of his mind he sort of knew the request.

"I need you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon." Balgruuf said courtly.

Rohan's eyebrows raised bewildered. "Fight!?"

"You've survived Helgen so you have more experience than anyone else here."

"Experience!?" Rohan said, " Forgive dear Jarl but I have as much as experience as that boy just now. Barely surviving Helgen isn't much of a qualification for dragon slaying!"

Balgruuf knew Rohan wasn't a dragon slayer, by Oblivion deep seedy pits no one alive has slain a dragon. But Balgruuf could tell there something about him that the jarl knew he can use, as if there was a bright blazing inferno within him.

"I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone and returning it to Farengar." Balgruuf said, "You braved a perilous draugr infested ruin and survived a dragon attack that put an entire town and most of its people into ash. I don't know if you understand the odds that are put out before you but the gods have you in their gaze boy."

" _The Divines are with me."_ Rohan snorted, "There hasn't been not one old hag who hasn't wish that to anyone for fortune." Doubt kept riding within him.

"You're a mercenary right?" Balgruuf nonchalantly says, "You will be rewarded greatly. That I can assure you."

Now that was convincing, gold not heavenly blessings is what gets Rohan battle ready to face mortal danger. _A good bottle of hooch and a night with a fair lady with a firm ass is my usual fare but if none can't provide then a bull's sack of coin will do._ Was his usual MO in rates. And what better reward than from a wealthy jarl? Still there was a matter in when facing a dragon. Unless Balgruuf thinks Rohan is to fight in some plain clothes and a jagged axe or worse his bare hands with his cock out there was little no chance he could fight anything.

"Forgive me jarl but I'm quite unprepared into fighting a horker let alone a dragon." Rohan said.

Balgruuf chuckles gingerly, "That's why I'm letting you take a pick of my armory." he says "As a token for my esteem."

Guards within Dragonsreach scrambled from one to post to another, some taking close precaution in watching their liege, the jarl and his family while others standing guard as a perimeter around the castle itself. Outside of Dragonsreach within the city was pure chaos. It was well after midday when then the siren was called from the horn. There townsfolk knew that was the signal of one thing, Whiterun was about to be under attack. Townsmen scrambled to their homes, screaming, snatching their babes and whatever valuables they could grab. The refugees outsides also scurried some trying to make it to the gate pushing the blockade of guardsmen, others attempting to scale the walls, while the little few run elsewhere for cover.

Near the main gate was a complement of guards. Veteran soldiers they were all hand picked to be apart of Irileth personal company. Current mission intel was inconclusive at the moment but many of the guardsman had heard rumors that could be a dragon and Whiterun could very well meet the same fate as Helgen. That made everyone nervous, prayers were hoping it was just a really organized stormcloak raid that's got everyone spooked. Men they can handle, dragons however….haven't been seen in fuckton centuries.

They stood anxious yet battle ready waiting for their commanding officer to come an address them before they march out. She was thanks be to the gods finally, along with a peculiar fellow. He was decked out nordic engraved steel armor, with a long shiny steel greatsword holstered on his back. One guardsman had whispered to his comrade next to him that that was the wanderer who strayed in front gate earlier that morning saying he was from Helgen.

"Listen UP!" the housecarl barked. "A dragon has been spotted near the Western Watchtower!"

Fell silence halted the band of guards. Bad news indeed.

" _SHIT!"_ one had said.

" _Now we're in for it!"_

"You heard me a dragon!" continued Irileth "I don't care much where it came from or sent it! What I do know that its made the mistake of attacking Whiterun!" she says, her deep blaring red eyes were deep within the sights of her men as if she was trying to resonate their souls just by glaring at them.

"But housecarl how can we fight a dragon?" says one guard out of the quietness of the rest.

"That's a fair question." says Irileth, "None of us has ever seen a dragon let alone expect to face one in battle. But we are honorbound to fight it even if we fail!" she rallies. "This dragon is threatening our homes!" she booms, "Our families!"

The solemn mood changes within the men as their faces lit up to the rhythm of Irileth's words, turning from soft somber kittens to fight harden sabre cats.

Irileth continued revving them up some more. "Could you call yourself Nords if you ran from this monster!? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?!" An appeal to honor to to barter for their support.

"Gods no!" some guards yell.

"But it's more than honor at stake here, think of it." Irileth said, "The first dragon seen in Skyrim since the last age!" she beamed. Guards begin to cheer her on, some townsfolk listen along stop to cheer for their support to "The glory of killing it is ours!" continued Irileth, "If you're with me!" More cheers erupt like fanfare at a festival.

Irileth now need to close her rallying speech, "Now what do you say? Shall we go kill us a dragon!"

The guards boom with confirming howls of praise. Some punching one another as to test their toughness as a strong mixed wreckless brashness filled their pride. The onlooking townsfolk stood and cheered.

"Gods protect you housecarl!" some had said.

"Divines watch over you all!"

Rohan stood, arms crossed, brow raised as he was impressed. _"Fiery woman she is."_ he giggles to himself. Even he was moved by her rallying speech.

Irileth went from her upbeat mood back to her stone hard face and only looked to Rohan. "I've readied a horse for you." she says, "Mount up!"

The ride to the watchtower was not much of a long trek, when nearing the tower Irileth insisted for everyone to dismount and walk further ahead. A good idea for a horse can easily be spooked and scramble, trampling you while your attention was displaced at your target during a fight.

The armed armada of nords lead by the dunmer stop atop a small hill where they could get a vista of the tower up ahead. The Western Watchtower laid like a broken fortress, mounds of rubble and wood in crumbled piles, flames still dancing all around.

Rohan feel the air was little hot than it usual was with the stale smell of burning death linger on his nose, yes this was just like Helgen. "No sign of any dragon right now." said Irileth her hand over her brow as she tries to look far. "But sure does looks like it was here. "

That same energy Rohan felt back before the imperials were going to lop off his head resonated within him once more. "It...isn't here." he says, "But its nearby, I can feel it somehow."

Irileth raised an eyebrow at the odd sellsword for a moment. "I know its looks bad but we've got to figure what happened." She drew her steel setting out, her men did so as well and followed. "Spread out!" she commanded, "And look for survivors! We need to know what we're dealing with."

Rohan did not drew his blade yet he kept his ears open and his mind steady and focused. He did not know what yet his instincts began to work him like a machine, as if his body was readying itself before he could tell it too. _"Be on guard…_ His mind tells him. _"You know it's out there watching you… Like a cat watching the mouse… A sabre prowling the grass ready to pounce the elk… It treats you like its prey…. Its toying with you, watching…..Be ready….You're not going to be thrashed around...No….Not like last time…."_

Irileth and her guards prowled the perimeter of the tower, eyes lurking at the wreckage and burned bodies. Shame, all those men gone in an instant. A few guardsmen began to pull bodies that strewn against the wreckage. "Damn…" lamented one guard, "That ones Leif, he was gonna retire came Hearthfire."

Rohan took a piece of burned rubble in his hand and felt the stilled heat within his palm. The beast's fire breath was intense, could it be the same that nearly killed him before?

He walked slowly to the now dilapidated structure of the main tower. As Rohan stepped up nearing the entrance he was stopped by a man, his armor damaged and he was near covered in sweaty soot. Rohan caught him midstep as the man ran into his arms.

"NO! GET BACK! IT'S STILL SOMEWHERE!" he hollered hysterically. "Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

Irileth overhears the commotion and hurries herself to where Rohan and the guardsman stood. "Guardsman!" she barked. "Tell me what's happened! Quickly now!"

"Shor's bones…." the man whimpers, "It killed them all! We're all going to die! You've fools have come to your death."

Irileth tries to console him, get the man to simmer down and shaking him even, but he kept wailing on hysterically, it was no use the man was traumatized.

Silence drowned out the man cries for Rohan's ears as the air went still for a moment. Rohan was then suddenly sensing a strong energy rushing behind him. And then….he heard it.

That roar, that same shrieking sound that he heard once before. _Flashes of the moment his neck stretched over the headsman block, the moist steely smell of blood already rising from the wood. The headsman raises his axe...And then…..he saw it._

"Kynareth save us!" the guardsman screams, "Here he comes again!"

Rohan snaps out of his trance and looks up just at the right moment as the beast soars over them roaring. It was big but not as he remembered it. The dragon, the scales were...brown? It had deep green eyes and long jagged teeth. _"A different dragon then? How many are there!?"_

"Here it comes!" says Irileth she draws her bow and notches, "Make every arrow count!"

Rohan had no bow for the blade he carried was too massive to carry the two. Besides, he knew how futile arrows were to these things, then again...he was not so sure about blades either.

The dragon flies low over them, the gust of wind sending one poor guard off the high rise he was standing on falling to the ground dead. It then circles back over, Rohan registered the flight patch it was doing automatically and his instincts kicked in, "Its about to breathe its fire move!" he yells. Irileth along with some guards who heard him scrambled to cover. Like Rohan thought, the dragon flew back over with flames spilling from its mouth. Some unfortunate guards who didn't heed Rohan's warning was caught in the blaze one of them being the traumatized guard earlier who tried to make break for it but was no instantly incinerated.

Rohan was able to dodge roll into cover barely caught in the gust of the drake's wings. He rolls clumsily over a small pile of rubble injuring himself. Wiping his face and catching his breath, only hearing the shallow rhythm of his beating heart as he looks on at the horror. Guards who were but few moment ago shouting praise and readiness for battle when they the city now covered in flames and screaming as they burned to death. Irileth rallying what's left of her men and engages and fruitless battle with the winged beast. She casts her armor in a spell to reinforce its strength, with her blade in one hand and magicka in the other shooting burst of lighting, aiming for the dragon's wings while her guardsmen do the same with their bows.

Rohan slowly tries to get up but pain from which he withstood from the previous tumble struck his legs and stumbles back down. _"What are you doing here Rohan….Why did you come here…."_ His mind tells him. _"Why risk your life...for what...You may be a nord….Your ancestors lay here….and you were born here…..but this is not your home….."_

" _ **I dreamt that I was standing in a land of fire and blood…"**_

" _Those words…where have I heard them?"_

" _ **Darkness shrouding over me...and I scream, hollered out…."**_

" _That voice….Ma?"_

" _ **But then you came...in a light of glorious virtue…"**_

Rohan finds the strength to put one foot firmly to the ground.

" _ **The Gods have plans for you…"**_

He then puts the other to the ground and before he could realize it, he was standing upright.

" _ **It is your destiny…"**_

Irileth could not keep up this tactic any longer, her magic was waning and she had but a few arrows left. But the dragon kept flying, it took one of her men its long claws, flinging outward to the ground. It then reaches for another with is mouth and bites the poor guard in half before circling back.

Rohan drew his blade breathing heavy through his nose. "I do not fear you...BEAST!" He then charges forward, running up a broken platform of what was once the tower's outer wall. "Do you hear me!?" The platform gave him an admirable boost as he leaped off, "I DON'T FEAR YOU!"

He catches the dragon's path in mid air, sinking his blade into his wing. Rohan never heard a dragon yelp in pain before, but it did and it was soon slunking heavily to the ground. The crashes was heavy and loud, clumps of dirt goes flying in a gust cloud.

The dragon and miraculously Rohan survived the crash. Rohan quickly pulled his blade from the drake's wing, right before it tries to hit him with its long spiky tail.

"It's on the ground!" shouted Irileth with renewed sense of strength, "Move in!"

Rohan quickly went for the dragon mouth, slicing it, the dragon giving out a painful hiss. He didn't know what it was but Rohan felt so compelled to engage with this great beast. He had fought many a man and monster but here this dragon, it was as if their hearts were beating as one, as they both engaged into battle. As if this was where Rohan belonged, that he was meant to fight this beast.

" _ **Britt grah!"**_ the dragon spoke, _**"I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide! Thurri du hin sille ko Sovngarde!"**_

The dragon tries once more with its firebreath and as if the gods were watching Rohan finds a lone shield strewn amidst the ground. He picks up the thick iron plated oak in time to ward off most of the flames. But he could feel the heat melting away at the iron fittings and soon the wood. The dragon did not relent but kept pouring through hoping to break the shield and burn him but then suddenly stopped. Irileth and her men came in the nick of time, she once more with lighting bolt and the guards with their arrows.

This gave Rohan the window to finish the job. The dragon's attention was ward off for just a moment for it to catch Rohan once again running up to him. Rohan slices at the dragon once more hard, then quickly and having no idea how or why he was doing it, climbs atop its head.

The dragon wiggled and wreathed trying to shake him off but Rohan kept balanced and struck the drake, hitting its neck. It struggles once more and violently, Rohan goes for the neck once more this time sinking it deep in and felt the warm blood touch his hands. The dragon hissed but more weakly. Rohan then finally goes in for one more blow, he leaps up and slams his sword atop the dragon's head, piercing it. The dragon went limp… _ **"dovahkiin….no!"**_ It's lasts words.

"Damn good shooting boys." says Irileth looking to what's left of her men. That was the hairiest fight she had ever been in to but she was proud of her men truly.

"Look!" one guard yells, snapping Irileth's attention back to the dragon. She watches as its now hulking carcass begins to...sizzle?

Rohan took a slow step back, tripping on his own footing yet his eyes were set on the dragon as he looks on watching it slowly start to disintegrate strangely.

"Everyone get back!" Irileth shouted, she and the rest of the men scramble to find cover once again except Rohan who remained on the ground with a sudden hot gust of wind coming from the dragon. Its scales flake off and burn like paper tossed in a flame and the sudden burst of winded energy flies and flows through to Rohan abruptly in a fitted whirlwind.

Rohan felt the energy encircled him and his body _consumes_ it. He felt the flush of the energy absorbed within and his mind steadies itself. A sudden vision flashes before him.

 _The cave of Bleak Falls...those words etched upon the wall….it calls him...begging him to speak it….Fus….Fus….Fus….FORCE…..Fus….Fus…._

Rohan opens his eyes and breathed in heavily, exhaling into a speech he did not until now he could, "FUS!" A burst of wind flies from his mouth so heavy that it budge the now bare skeletal remains of the dragon, kicking up dirt as well. It felt beautiful, that word parting his lips, as if it was meant to be. Rohan stood and smiled. He had never felt so accomplished in his young life.

He pauses in his blissful moment of joy and looks to the now stunned guardsmen who stared back at him, eyes wide and mouths agape. "I can't believe it…" stammers one guard, "You're...Dragonborn!"

Rohan raised an eyebrow, stunned and confused, "What?"

Irileth stepped forward joining her dazed guardsmen and spoke, "Arrest him."

 _ **A/N:**_ _Hope you enjoy, don't forget to review._

 _Dragon translation:_ _ **Britt grah- "Beautiful Battle!"**_

 _ **Thurri du hin sille ko Sovngarde!- "My lord will feast on your souls in Sovngarde!"**_


End file.
